


Aftermath

by sunlitroses



Series: Healing [2]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlitroses/pseuds/sunlitroses
Summary: Duty called and he was ready to put his skills back into practice. What was the worst that could happen?
Relationships: Helen Magnus & Will Zimmerman
Series: Healing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738219
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

"I understand your concerns," was as far as Magnus got before the voice Will couldn't quite hear on the other end broke through again.

"Understood, but," and whoever was over there must have balls of steel to interrupt Magnus twice in one conversation.

"Our best people are on it, I assure you," finally, a full sentence; hopefully that would reassure them, why wouldn't it? Their team was awesome. Given the renewed burst of chatter from the far side, however, this was apparently not a universal sentiment.

"I beg your pardon?" Ouch, whatever they said must have been way off to earn the ice queen tone, "No, it is a reasonable request, but you realize that…"

Off went the merry chatterers again; Will had only been in here a handful of minutes and they were already on his last nerve. How had Magnus put up with an hour of them so far?

"Fine, I'll agree on two conditions. One, my representative has full authority over the investigation," quite a loud burst of talking, there, Will mused, "and two," this time Magnus kept talking right over them, "you forward us the data you currently have and make no further moves until we are in place," Magnus stopped to listen in to the argument brewing on the other side of her computer screen. "I'm sorry, but either you need backup on the situation and want us to intervene or you only need peripheral support and not personnel. You cannot have it both ways."

Will thought about sneaking back out, as it sounded like she had everything well in hand, but reconsidered on the thought of the possible forthcoming squabble over who would have control of which pieces. He might have to spell her after all. Joy.

"Forward us the data and I'll send you more specific allocations of resources, provided you can agree to my terms," actually, this sounded like a wrap-up. A final burst of talk that sounded like a question, "Ah," Magnus seemed to hesitate for a moment, which made him take notice, before coming to a decision, "I'll send you Will."

Well, wouldn't this just be the funnest trip ever? At least the chatter over the line sounded vaguely pleased. Will hoped that he wasn't just projecting that, in fear of their imminent working relationship.

"I'll keep an eye out for it," Magnus promised before ending the call.

"So, what, I'm a parcel post now?" he wasn't sure if she knew he had entered the room, but it was never too early in the day to catch your boss off guard.

"Will," she turned towards him with a smile, so that he couldn't tell if his question was unexpected or not, "Give us some credit. We'll at least send you priority."

"Well, that's a relief," Will returned the grin before nodding towards the blank computer screen, "So, where am I shipping off to and why?"

"The call came from the Asuncion Sanctuary, as I believe you are aware?" At his nod, she continued, "The callers, however, hail from a small, independent outpost along the Rio Paraguay. The facility is running into problems getting off the ground and they require our sort of help."

"They aren't part of the Sanctuary network?" he clarified

"No, an independent refuge," Magnus stood and motioned him towards the seating around the fireplace where a tea service languished in solitude. Clearly, the Big Guy had been trying to give a subtle hint that she had missed lunch yet again. "A small group of abnormals desirous of creating a safe house of sorts for the region founded the project."

"And they didn't want to become a part of the network because…" Will prompted, taking a seat on the sofa and trying to hide his pleased smile when Magnus took the seat beside him before leaning forward to pour the tea. Ever since he had given in and admitted to a few _minor_ insecurities regarding his permanence as a member of the Sanctuary network, Magnus had been working overtime in the reassurance department. As it happened, he calmed best through touch and proximity – one of his more embarrassing weaknesses and how she had found out still eluded him, annoyingly – which meant he had suddenly gained a new seatmate whenever they happened to be in a room together. Not that Will was complaining. Though he would never say it aloud, it did work and the psychiatrist in him deemed it a good thing. The regular old human inside of him thought it was, too, just in a more grumbling manner.

"They had a number of technicalities regarding the manner in which they ran their operation, but at bottom I suspect it was a distrust of those from outside their region," she passed him a cup of tea, heavy on the cream and sugar, before taking up her own unadulterated cup.

"Not promising," Will commented absent-mindedly, trying to plan out the best way to work with people who presumably already didn't like him, "What prompted them to reach out to us then?"

"The same problems that always seem to surround a new Sanctuary - or Haven, as they're choosing to call their facility. How to work around the police, when to involve the authorities, where to house abnormals while building progresses, all of the usual suspects." Magnus paused to take a sip of tea. When the silence stretched past the time one could reasonably take to drink tea, Will looked up to find her watching him carefully.

"Is there something more?" he asked, trying not to sound anxious.

"No," she shook her head as though shaking a thought out of it, before continuing, "It should be no more problematic than opening a new Sanctuary and they know the region well enough to be an asset in avoiding any major problems that could arise."

Will couldn't help but note that Magnus sounded like she was trying to convince the both of them. The question was: should he call her on it?

"You don't sound convinced," and of course he should. Will was pretty sure there was a section covering that in his employee handbook, "Seriously, anything I should be prepared for?"

"No," Magnus sighed and smiled at him ruefully, "It's nothing of the sort, simply one straightforward, small haven. They also seemed to be genuinely glad that you would be assisting them in this endeavor. Apparently your reputation precedes you, Will," she teased gently, with a small salute of her tea cup.

"Oh good, those rumors I've been bribing people to spread are paying off then," Will smirked when he caught her out with a mouthful of tea and received a mock-glare in return. While she managed to swallow, he gave her his own assessing gaze. She was being honest: the job didn't worry her, which meant that sending him _did_. Will wondered if he should be offended. "Are you worried that I'll scar them for life down there or something?"

Her eyes immediately went wide and he could tell that wasn't the problem at all, which was annoying in that now he would have to press further.

"No, Will, of coursenot."

He spoke in her slight pause – he knew that wasn't her concern, he didn't need to hear it refuted, "I have done this before, you know."

Except, Will realized as he spoke, that he hadn't done it lately. Not since… early fall. Shortly before he and Magnus had a very awkward and confusing series of arguments about his slight insecurities. _Great._

"But you've been keeping me here recently," Will continued as though it were not a sudden revelation, "I didn't realize, but… why? Maybe I'm a little screwed up, but…"

"No, Will," and apparently it was Magnus' turn to interrupt, "I won't say that I don't think that staying local for the time being hasn't been good for you, but it was not deliberate. We simply haven't had a situation like this one that needed you. I just," she hesitated for a moment, "I suppose I've grown accustomed to your being here and this will be quite a time commitment. Most likely six to eight weeks to set things on a sustainable path for them."

Will half-smiled at her; it was a good explanation even if he suspected that Magnus had reworked a few of those 'situations' so that someone else would be needed instead of him. That she was sending him to Paraguay, however, meant that she was at least starting to feel less protective, so Will suspected it was too late to worry about the previous months now. If he had noticed at the time, it would have been an entirely different kettle of fish – or extremely loud argument, as the case might be – but at this point he decided it would be best to just let it go. _Besides, she just admitted that she liked me being here._

"I'll miss you, too," Will said in answer to her unspoken sentiment, grinning when Magnus looked caught out.

"Don't let it go to your head," she said, looking down her nose at him and trying not to grin back, "If I get desperate, I can always go chat for a while with a different monkey down at the zoo."

"Ah, I see," he tried to paste a morose expression onto his face, "I'm simply convenient. Hey," Will switched to a fake light-bulb-going-off expression, "I'll bet if you show them your birth certificate they'll give you the senior discount!"

"Cheeky," Magnus decided, not hiding her grin any longer, "Be careful or I'll talk the zookeeper into switching your habitat with my new friend's. He'll undoubtedly know better than to call his boss 'old.'"

Before Will could work out a reply, Magnus' computer softly chimed and she moved to return to her desk.

"This will probably be the current information on the Paraguay haven," she remarked over her shoulder as she rounded the desk. "I'll forward a copy to you, so you'll know what you'll have to work with."

"Or against," Will added with a resigned smile, recalling several instances in the past.

"As you say," Magnus gave him a similar smile back before settling behind her desk to peruse the documents.

Seeing that she was immersed, Will freshened her tea and decided to be quite cheeky and add a small cut sandwich and cookie to the saucer. Treats arranged, he walked over to her desk and set them at her elbow with a deliberate clink. Distracted, Magnus looked up.

"I'm just going to go pack, then run through the documents. I'll see about catching the soonest flight out. Don't forget about your tea," with a wicked smile, he headed for the door.

Will heard the suppressed snort as Magnus looked at the tea cup and it's bounty for the first time.

"On the subject," she called and he stopped in the doorway to look back at her. "Don't forget to eat something. I know we were busy through most of the morning."

"Yes, said the pot to the kettle," he smiled as he finished leaving the room. Yes, she had definitely been saying things like that more often in the past few months, a sign of hovering that he should have caught before now. Perhaps it was progress that he had taken it in stride. Certainly, it was far better than spending way too much time trying to decide if it meant that she didn't trust him. Plus, it gave him the perfect excuse to hover a bit in return. Sometimes it seemed to him that she let her 'unique physiology' do too much of the heavy lifting and neglected herself on the assumption that it would pick up the slack.

In any case, her hovering was going to have to take a break now. Maybe by the time he returned she would be more confident that the events of a few months back were an aberration, not something she needed to guard against.

After all, it was his one area of weakness that he'd certainly shored up by now. Duty called and he was ready to put his skills back into practice. He would be perfectly fine. What was the worst that could happen?


	2. A Late Night

_Eight Weeks Later_

"Longest. Trip. Of m' life."

Helen looked up at this pronouncement, startled, quickly rising to her feet as she recognized the announcer.  
"Will! Where on earth have you been, we expected you a day ago."

"Plane," was his succinct response, "Storm," he clarified as he sank onto the sofa in front of the fire, gazing at it distractedly.

"I suppose those are the essentials, but might I have a bit more information?" she asked bemusedly, coming to sit beside him and taking the opportunity to look him over. His clothes had clearly seen better days and his posture screamed exhaustion to her, "We saw the storm had forced your plane to ground, but we couldn't reach you at the airport and didn't see any other planes leaving the area. How did you get here? We were worried sick."

For a moment, Will just blinked at her, before shaking himself and beginning to speak. She was starting to feel concern at this point - surely speaking shouldn't take this much effort. How long had it been since he had slept?

"A guy... the one fr'm the place. Wi' the trees? He was there. Had a plane," Will looked pained for a moment and then turned an exhausted version of his normal puppy-dog eyes on her, "Really wanted t' be home."

"You took off on a private plane with another gentleman despite the copious warnings grounding all transport in the area," Helen translated neatly, torn between sinking her head into her hands to combat the burgeoning headache and strangling the pathetic-looking man in front of her. She closed her eyes and decided on the verbal method of strangulation. It might even make her head feel better, "Do you have any idea what..."

The sentence was interrupted by a poke to her knee cap. Her eyes flew open to stare at Will, now sporting a sheepish expression.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "Make s're y're real. Y'know," he shrugged as though his statement explained everything.

"Will," Helen gave up with a sigh, "I'll save the lecture for later. I suspect you won't remember it at this point anyway," she added, noting his genial, slightly vague smile, "Can you at least tell me why it took you an extra twenty-eight hours to get here?"

"Oh," he frowned, his brow furrowing in serious thought. Despite her frustration, Helen couldn't help but smile and reach out to smooth a thumb over his forehead. He looked up at her, wide-eyed, before sitting up straighter to say, "I r'member - we crashed!"

He looked so pleased with himself that it took a minute for his words to register.

"Were you hurt? Where did you crash?" Her nerves couldn't take this on top of the worry of the past day of frantically trying to locate him.

Will weathered the storm of questions with a slightly puzzled air, before stating, "'M fine. Bouncy crash," he cheerfully added, "Plane'll be good, too."

"Oh, well that's a relief," Helen muttered sarcastically, "Wouldn't want the plane to be hurt." A thought occurred to her, "How did you get here from the crash site?"

"There was a car. And a train?" Will paused for a moment in thought, "and one of those yellow cars. With the black bits? And numbers?"

"A taxi?" she supplied, trying to suppress her smile once more. One day she would really have to tape one of these conversations where he was less than _compos mentis_. Of course, if she did, he would probably never treat her to another one of these highly entertaining conversations again. _I suppose it's not worth it. Pity._

"Yes!" he slurred happily, "Y' very smart," he finished, nodding sagely.

"I'm not sure you're in any position to judge that right now," Helen gave in and chuckled. _I knew I should have been taping this_ , "When was the last time you slept?"

"The place I was at before the plane," he stopped, before adding helpfully, "With the beds."

"Assuming you mean the New York Sanctuary, you've gone at least thirty-six hours without sleep. Let's get you to a bed, shall we? I suppose the lecture on purposely risking your life can wait until you've emerged from your room tomorrow," she extended her arm to help him rise and was startled when Will apparently took it as an invitation to hug her instead. After a beat, she huffed in amusement and wrapped her own arms around him tightly, grateful that the crash was such a 'bouncy' one.

"Y'are real, aren't you?" Will said wistfully, his face tucked into her neck, "The guy wi' the shirt said to be careful 'cause of the head-bump 'n not fall asleep. But if I fell ac'dent'ly asleep and dreamt you, would I b'able t' hug you?"

"Head-bump?" Helen pushed Will upright again, with great reluctance on his part, to look at his eyes, "I thought you said you were fine after the crash."

"Am," he blinked, looking back at her guilelessly.

"Will," she spoke slowly, "did you hit your head?"

"Um, yes?" he frowned again, "At leas', t' guy wi' the shirt said so."

"When did you hit your head?"

"On t' train," Will shook his head mournfully, "'N I really wanted to sleep i' t' bunk."

"Where did you hit it? Let me see," she demanded and, after a moment while he processed her request, Will began running a hand over his head as though he'd momentarily lost track of from where the pain was coming. Helen was about to give up and just examine his entire head when he hit a spot that prompted a wince and she took over, tilting his head down to examine the gash near the crown of his head.

"Ow," he said as she probed near the edges of the wound. She ignored him.

"Your friend 'with the shirt' was right about this 'bump'," she finally decided, letting his head come up again while she fished in the pocket of her cardigan for a penlight, "I don't like the looks of it. Here, look at me, please. No, me, not the light. There we are."

After a brief period of studying his pupil reactions, Helen flicked off the light and frowned into his rapidly blinking eyes.

"You do need sleep," she said, adding dryly, as he reached up a hand to bat at whatever dots were still lingering in front of his vision after the bright light, "Desperately. Not in your own bed tonight, though, I'm afraid."

"No sleep?" Will asked mournfully, latching on to what he perceived as the salient point of her sentence.

"Yes sleep," Helen smiled, "Come along, the sooner the better, I think."

She stood up and reached down to help Will to his feet, slipping an arm around his waist when he swayed into her. Rubbing a hand down his side soothingly, she propelled him towards the small bedroom set just off of her office. Ostensibly put in to give her a place to catch sleep during difficult, otherwise sleepless periods, the room was more often used as a catch-all for those patients whom she didn't want to let out of sight and who, for some reason, were not in the infirmary. Her staff appeared there with alarming frequency. Alarming to them, certainly – they had some qualms about her being so near that they 'couldn't even twitch.' Helen pretended not to know about their grumblings; the whole point of them being under her eye was so that she _could_ see every twitch. It was particularly important with a group this eager to overdo it before they were even fully healed.

She didn't think that Will would be complaining tonight. In fact, she would be surprised if he remained awake long enough for her to get him into bed. She slowed him to a stop in his headlong drive towards the bed in question.

"Pajamas," she detoured to the small dresser against the wall and withdrew a pair of scrubs. Handing them to him, she gave him a nudge towards the en suite bathroom, "I don't want to consider how long you must have been wearing these clothes."

For a moment Will simply blinked at her, the same expression of befuddlement returning that had been appearing on his face since he had walked through her door. Helen hoped that she wouldn't have to strip him herself. He always blushed for weeks after she did. In all honesty, she found it cute, but it made working together inconvenient when one party, to all appearances, conducted their end of the conversation with the floor in mumbled stutters.

"Will?" she asked, "Go change clothes. Okay?"

He nodded, though she wasn't certain if he had understood or was just reacting to being asked a question, but he ambled towards the bathroom. Helen decided to be optimistic. Turning towards the bed, she began pulling down the covers and getting the pillows in order. Luckily, the linens were fresh. They were always kept that way on the off chance that something went awry without warning. Such as wayward protégés crashing planes and banging heads on innocent trains.

Task complete, she looked towards the bathroom when she heard a noise that turned out to be Will walking into the door frame while attempting to pull his shirt over his head. Muffling another smile and reflecting that he was giving her weeks of blackmail material at least, Helen went over to tug him into the bedroom and untwist his shirt to pull it into place.

"Much better," she smiled into the exhausted face that instinctively smiled back, and put an arm back around his waist as she walked him to the bed. Settling him on the edge of it, she pulled out a small medical kit from the bottom drawer of the night stand.

"I'm surprised your friend 'with the shirt,'" and she would never be able to think of the man as anything else now, "didn't put a bandage on this at the time."

"'E did," Will refuted, overly-wide eyes watching her movements between long blinks. "I' came off. I' th' river."

"The river?" Helen weighed whether she wanted to fight the reason he had been in a river to begin with out of him tonight. While she was considering, Will took it upon himself to expound on the subject.

"Di'n't know a' th' time," he squirmed away from the bite of the disinfectant and Helen did her level best to both keep him in one place and apply it gently. Ah well, it wasn't as though the chemical would hurt the rest of his scalp, but if he moved one more time, she was going to upend the bottle over his head. "T' busy tryin' to ge' out ag'in."

"Hold still," she took hold of his chin in an attempt to keep him in one place. "I'm almost done." Finally, she reached the other end of the gash and let him go. Honestly, sometimes he was worse than a child. All of that nervous energy he normally displaced by pacing and gesturing, plus his habitual avoidance of anything medical, made him a very twitchy patient. And then he would turn around and complain about her sticking fingers in his ear. "Did you fall into the river by yourself?"

"Mm hm. Me 'n' the wheel. Cold, 'n' deep," he shivered as she carefully taped the bandage down over the gash. "Why does th' wat'r hate m' so?"

"Perhaps you should stay out of rivers, then, Will," No, not pursuing this one tonight, Helen decided. She'd wait until he was able to defend himself before she dragged out all of the reasons that she ought to kill him. Tugging him to his feet, she reached down and pulled the blanket back further before she gently directed him towards it.

"In you go," was the calm order, which she enforced by pulling the blankets up to tuck him in when his fingers fumbled at the task, "I'll be waking you up hourly… but you aren't going to remember that, are you?" she concluded to herself, watching Will's eyes fall shut almost immediately. "Poor lad," she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and smoothing his hair back away from his face, "Not quite the easy mission I promised, was it?"

Helen allowed a few moments to simply watch as his body relaxed into sleep, ridding itself of the tension he carried all his waking hours. Reaching over, she brushed the back of her fingers over his cheek, smiling as he sighed faintly and turned into the pressure. Tonight, for a change, all of her myriad charges were safe and sound and most of them asleep, aside from the nocturnal ones – and Kate, who possibly qualified as the latter. She allowed the comfort at the thought, even though she knew if wouldn't last. _What would you do, Helen,_ she chided herself, wryly, _smother them in moth balls and store them in the attics?_ Shaking her head for anticipating danger instead of enjoying the peaceful interlude, Helen ruffled her fingers through Will's hair, smirking when he simultaneously muttered inaudibly and pushed into her hand. Repeating the gesture, she sighed and stood from the bedside. Paperwork wouldn't complete itself, more was the pity. Although at least with Will back she could share the joy. Allowing the smirk to reawaken and stake out more territory around the corners of her lips, she headed back towards her office proper. She turned to pull the door almost shut, lips softening into a gentle smile at the slumbering form. _Sleep well, m'lad._

The steady fire burning brightly behind the grate, flickering light over the solid familiarity of her office deepened her contentment. Purposely ignoring her desk, Helen wandered over to her bank of monitors instead, flicking through the cameras and making certain that all was right in her particular world. Most of the images showed dim figures sleeping, empty hallways, or nocturnal residents going about their nightly business. Kate, awake as expected, at the heavy bag in the gym, mid-workout. Henry, curled up tightly on the cot in his lab. She shook her head affectionately at that. He did have a perfectly good room, though one would never know it from its infrequent use. Reassured, Helen moved away from the monitors, circling her office slowly once, lingering in its comfort, before her steps brought her full circle.

Seated once more behind her desk, she surveyed the stack of files yet to be signed off on with the resignation of the doomed. _Sleep very well,_ she directed to the room behind herself, _I need you awake enough to file._ This smirk lasted through the next two files, at least.

* * *

As it turned out, Helen didn't have to wake him in an hour. A little over thirty minutes later, she heard noises coming from the bedroom. Concerned, she pushed out from the desk she was still ensconced behind and quickly walked towards the cracked door to see what was happening.

Whatever she expected to see, it wasn't Will desperately fighting his blankets and uttering sharp, low cries. She hurried to the bedside and, deciding that restraining him would only worsen his nightmare, quickly began to untangle him from the covers that he had managed to wrap himself in thoroughly. _His nightmares haven't been this bad in quite some time._ The thought flickered through her mind briefly then escaped for a later date, subsumed in the moment.

Once free, she reached to shake him by the shoulders, hoping the movement would jolt him out of his nightmare, "Will? Wake up. You're just dreaming, Will. Wake up now."

The stimulus seemed to have some effect, but once his eyes opened, Will's efforts turned to getting away from her. _Still not awake, I see._ Helen took a tighter grip to try and quell some of the thrashing, "Will! It's just me. Look at me. It's Magnus. Calm down. It's okay. You're safe."

She continued on in a similar vein until Will woke up enough to truly look at her and she felt the fight slowly leave his body. After barely a beat of peace, Helen unexpectedly wound up with an armful of Will for the second time that evening. She rocked slightly back under his weight until she adjusted enough to re-center herself and bring her arms up around him. It did make it easier to check on him. The shaking was pure reaction, Helen knew, but his breaths were on the verge of hyperventilating. She ran her hands up and down his back and softly whispered in the conveniently near ear to breathe slowly.

"Breathe with me, Will. In. Out. Slowly. You're alright, just breathe."

The catch in his breath told her he was trying to obey, but his grip on her only tightened, so she continued her soothing.

As she listened closely to the breathing slowly falling back into a normal rhythm, Helen caught herself rocking them both gently and wondered if she ought to stop before Will noticed. The slowing cadence of his breaths convinced her otherwise, however, and she tried not to think about how he would react should he remember this come morning. Will never did accept any lapses into what he considered 'weaknesses' very well.

_In anyone else, he would call it overreacting and tell them everyone needs comfort at some point._ Internally, she snorted at giving the same logic that Will had pressed upon her in the past right back to him. _No,_ _ **he**_ _ought to be above it simply because he is a psychiatrist and my right hand and needs to be relied upon. If I could even manage to coax that much out of him, given the platitudes about 'fine' that he would undoubtedly try and hand me. Nonsense – and not something I'll let him get away with this time, either._

Once Will was breathing normally for a few minutes, Helen let her running monologue in his ear stop, but continued to hold him close. The fact that he made no indication that he wanted her to stop worried her some. Despite, or perhaps because of, how clearly Will reacted to tactile comfort, he always sought to avoid it as a matter-of-course. As though his buried needs were impositions or unhealthy habits that he could leave behind with time and effort.

Helen had been waging a quiet, private battle since the early autumn to provide more of the reassurance he denied himself and was fairly proud with how well he was responding. She was honest enough with herself to admit that it had been good for her as well. The comfort of touch was something that she had always appreciated, even if it wasn't always possible given the times or her companions. She had considered telling Will this before, had even half-told him in an oblique fashion, but hesitated to proceed further. If this became one more thing about her, then yes, he would undoubtedly lose a great deal of his resistance. Whether that was healthy, she had yet to determine. She could, and had, survived without touch, waiting for the next tactile person to come along. This one was about him and it would be nice if, this once, Will would let her care for him, emotionally, the way he always strove to do for her.

As of yet, however, he was still reluctant to reach out to her and never had he been as receptive as he was acting tonight. It was definitely cause for concern if Will's need for contact was so deep that it overrode his doubts and inhibitions. _Doubtless his exhaustion is helping in no small measure, though._

After a while of rocking in silence, Helen broke the quiet and gave in to her curiosity and concern, "Better?"

The small nod against her shoulder confirmed her belief that he had not fallen back to sleep. She knew that should she ask if he wanted to talk about it, he would simply say no, and decided to remove the choice.

"What happened?"

His only response was a slight shrug.

"Will," her willingness to accept non-verbal answers from him was small, as well he knew.

"Dream."

Clearly, they were back to the monosyllabic responses from earlier in the evening. _This might take a bit of time_ , Helen decided and moved them both slightly backwards so that her back rested against the headboard. Once settled, she returned to their conversation, "You had a dream? What happened in it?"

There was a short pause. "Nigh'mare."

"Alright, not a good dream, then," she gave him a few moments before pressing again, "What happened in it?"

Repetition and contact was the recipe she had finally figured out for getting answers from Will, but somehow it still surprised her every time it worked.

"I's bac' ther'."

_Still exhausted enough to slur_ , she noted with the doctorial part of her mind even as she translated tired-speak into English.

"Back where, Will?" when they question went unanswered, she prompted him with suggestions, "The New York Sanctuary?" No response there, "The Asuncion Sanctuary?" Nothing, but his breathing was picking up again. Helen began rubbing his back once more as she continued. _Oh please, don't let it be_ , "The Rio Paraguay Haven?" He pressed himself impossibly closer to her, but still didn't speak. "Will?"

He mumbled something into her neck that she couldn't hear.

"What was that?" she tried to pull him away a little, but the action panicked him and he fought to cling to her more tightly, "Sh, sh, you don't have to go anywhere, just speak up a little. Now, you were back at the Rio Paraguay?"

To her surprise, after a few breaths he leaned back of his own accord so that he could see her face. _He looks exhausted and thinner. What happened on this trip?_

"Please," Will's voice was low and scratchy; she strained her ears to catch his words, "Please, don' sen' me back righ't'way. They nee' help 'n' I'll go, if y'wan' m'to, but pleas' n'now."

He tucked himself back into her shoulder as though his words had drained whatever energy he had left. Before she could process his extraordinary statement, Helen noticed he was whispering still. After a moment, she closed her eyes in realization. He was whispering 'please' over and over again.

She was trying to decide if she should press any further when her ears caught a sound suspiciously like a muffled sob. _No._ Helen stiffened and tried not to panic. Will _never_ cried. When he was upset, he turned it inwards and tried to push everyone and his own thoughts away with anger or, worse yet, simply shut down altogether. Further questions were pushed to the back of her mind as she pulled Will closer to her. Bending her head down near to his ear, Helen began to utter all the soothing nonsense she could think of quickly.

"It's all right. You're safe, Will. I'm here. You don't have to go anywhere," _and won't be any time soon._ At least, Helen decided, not until he gave a good reason for scaring her like this. A _bloody_ good reason.

There were no more crying noises, a blessing for her nerves, but her shoulder did feel a bit damp. After a while, Will's grip on her loosened and his breathing began to settle into a deeper, sleeping rhythm. She leaned back against the headboard again and tried to calm her own overstressed system. Her mild concern from earlier in the evening was now edging into deep concern and worry. Something was wrong here beyond a poor plane trip, a concussion, and sleep deprivation.

Slowly, Helen moved off the bed and settled Will back under the covers. Her exit hit a snag, however, when she tried to leave the bedside. Almost immediately, Will began to rouse and reached out after her, prompting her to return and quiet him back down before he could completely wake. _Clingy, emotional, desperate enough to get back here to chance flying in poor conditions despite being the world's worst flier_ , Helen found her mind ticking off concerns as she let Will cling to one hand, while she ran her fingers through his hair until he calmed once more. _What the hell had happened?_ After a few moments thought, she slipped out of her cardigan and tucked it into his arms. Nervously, she took a few steps from the bed, half-ready to return. He mumbled a bit and hugged the cardigan closer, but this time he didn't wake.

Carefully, she slipped out of the room and pulled the door nearly shut, leaving enough of a crack that she could hear if he woke again. Satisfied that he was fine for the moment, Helen turned towards her desk with grim determination. It was time for a few answers.


	3. A Long Afternoon

Even by Helen's standards, it was a long night.

Whatever demons were stalking Will's slumber, they were relentless. After the third time in as many hours that she found herself waking him up only to calm him back down enough to sleep, she gave in. Transferring everything to a tablet, she and her begged, borrowed, and stolen files took up residence next to him in the bed.

At the least, it seemed to comfort him to some extent. It helped that, with him curled up against her hip, Helen was able to quiet him out of the nightmares before they reached the height necessary to attract attention from the next room.

Still, a long night.

* * *

"Magnus?"

At the plaintive murmur, Helen set the tablet on the nightstand again and moved the hand resting on Will's head to card through his hair once more.

"Sh, Will. I'm right here. It's alright." At a little over seven hours since he had first propped himself in the doorway of her office, she was beginning to think that she would be reciting that litany in her sleep. Whenever she next got any.

"What?"

He sounded more confused than alarmed and when he began to push away from her side to sit up, she realized that he had woken up properly for a change.

"How?" he trailed off, looking around the bedroom for a long moment. "I'm in the off-bedroom?"

"Yes," Helen confirmed, running a hand down his back and frowning when he flinched. "You suffered a concussion in your ill-conceived journey home. I thought it best to keep you close enough for neurological checks."

"Oh, right, the train," he muttered absently. She was relieved that he remembered that much at least. The memory loss was probably due to exhaustion then, not the concussion. A small mercy. Sharply, he turned to face her, "But, um, you're… was the concussion that bad? I feel pretty fine."

"Your rest was… unsettled." Helen hesitated in what she should admit to him. Laying out the full story would result in one of two possibilities: either he would explain what had happened to assuage her concern or he would pull back so far that coaxing him out again would be a monumental task. "Staying close was the only thing that seemed to keep you calm enough to sleep." Splitting the difference was always an option.

"Oh," was all he said in a low tone, but the vivid blush that spread over his face said more than enough of his feelings.

"You must still be tired," she glossed over the moment, "A few hours of broken sleep is hardly sufficient given the amount of time that you were awake. Lay back down, Will." Reading his refusal in the slight shake of his head, she offered, "If you like, I'll remove to my office."

"No, it's… I'm not tired," he said, fumbling to rid himself of the bed clothes, his clumsiness and haggard appearance giving the lie to his words.

"Will," Helen sighed, reaching out to catch his arm only to be startled by him practically jumping away from her at the touch. _What in heaven's name?_ Alarmed, she slid off the bed as he managed to stagger to his feet.

"Sorry, sorry," he was already apologizing as she rounded the footboard, "You surprised me."

"By reaching for you?" she said in a purposely disbelieving voice. Will wasn't getting away with such a flimsy excuse and he should know better than that by now. For the moment, though, she would allow the most obvious explanation. "You're jumpy and fatigued, Will. You need sleep."

Before he spoke a word, Helen saw the dismissal in his eyes and acknowledged that she would have to change tactics. Unfortunately, Will was much too like her in at least one way – he had a stubborn streak a mile wide.

"If you're going to remain up, though," she continued, without giving him an opening, "then I should check you over. I want a scan of that head for certain and I'd like to ensure that you're in one piece after suffering a plane crash."

Half-expectantly, she paused, waiting for the inevitable remark about the number of planes they had crashed together. It was a reassuringly annoying predictability. Instead, Will simply ran a hand over his face and nodded in resignation.

"Fine," he agreed shortly, "but I think the worst I got from the crash were some cuts and bruises. Rico set us down pretty gently."

"I've never heard of a gentle plane crash," she scoffed, gesturing towards the door, careful to not touch Will. Helen didn't think she could handle him flinching away from her again. As though she would hurt him - or as though she already had. No, as weary as she felt, it wasn't a reaction to risk. "Rather a contradiction in terms, don't you think?"

"I suppose," he agreed, clearly absent-mindedly, and she noted with concern that he almost slunk by her towards the door, pressing against the side of the bed until he was in open space once more. Helen eyed her tablet from across the bed, hoping that further study would answer the more worrisome questions that were beginning to cross her mind. First, though, she had one nervous young man to coax through the infirmary. Probably breakfast, too, she strategized as she followed Will at a respectable distance from the room. Then somehow getting him back into a bed… it was going to be a long afternoon.

He remained wary as they walked to the infirmary – more so than Helen had seen him even when they were actually in a dangerous situation. She hesitated to call him on it, though, knowing it would simply cause him to hide the reaction. At least this way, she could observe how bad it truly was without fighting it out of him.

* * *

The scan went as well as could be imagined, given that Helen suddenly had a patient on her hands that she could barely touch. If nothing else, this was forcing her to realize exactly how much she lowered her 'touch barrier' the minute she crossed into the infirmary. No wonder poor Kate tried to avoid the room whenever she could; the girl was like a feral kitten for being touched.

With Will, though, given that she'd already been allowing herself free range even outside of the med bay with his need for touch – well, it was really quite ridiculous how often she had to restrain herself. The thought of sitting on her hands seriously crossed her mind for a moment when they turned to the physical exam.

"Good lord, Will," she couldn't help but breathe when he was down to his boxers. "This is what you call a 'gentle plane crash'?"

He looked startled by her words, before glancing down at the bruises across his chest and frowning. "Yeah, I guess it was a, a bad… plane crash. Sorry."

Helen frowned herself. She didn't need to be even half as observant as Will to know that something was off in his last statement. He had never lied to her very well, thankfully. Setting the issue to the back of her mind, she slowly approached him from the front, making sure that her hands were in clear view at all times. From the way his body tightened in around itself, this was only a small improvement.

"Will," she waited until he looked up at her, eyes too wide, before she continued, "I just need to make sure that nothing's damaged beneath the bruises, alright?" Helen stepped closer as she maintained eye contact. "Where should I start?" Perhaps giving him some control over the exam would ease a bit of his tension. _It could hardly make it worse_ , she noted acerbically.

He blinked at her for a minute as she waited patiently until, with relief, she saw more of 'her' Will flicker back into his eyes.

"Um," he paused, looking down at his chest, "My ribs are a little sore, I guess."

"Okay," she waited until he looked back up at her before moving closer, hands in front of her. He remained still as Helen lightly placed her hands on his rib cage, but from this distance, she could easily see the pulse pounding at his neck and the uneasy cadence of his breaths.

"Sh," she couldn't help but try to soothe him, "It's just me, Will." Pressing carefully over his ribs, she felt for any breaks. "Hm, looks like you're going to be a bit colorful for a few days, but there's no other damage. How about your back next?"

Patiently, she waited until his eyes met hers again and a few moments longer until they cleared and he silently turned slightly under her hands. Keeping her movements slow, Helen felt the ribs along his back and noted cuts that needed bandaging. Carefully, she pressed down his spine, but aside from a few dark bruises, there was no worrying pain. What was troublesome were the patterns of the cuts and bruising; loathe those she was to admit it a plane crash didn't fit the injuries.

"Were you even wearing a seat belt?" she strove to keep her tone light. _Let him have the lie for the moment, Helen. Keep him calm enough to get through this. Good Lord, if he gets any tenser, this tendon will snap._ She pressed lightly into the tension running over his shoulders blades.

"Yeah," he mumbled softly. "Guess it – guess it didn't do too much good, huh?"

"Better than the alternative, I would think," Helen tried to say easily. She had picked up the art of subterfuge over the years, but would never like the necessity. Particularly with… colleagues. _Or family,_ her subconscious prodded. She told it to take a flying leap. In more colorful language, of course. It had been her and Nigel's own secret competition, how many languages they could curse volubly in, point's dependent upon creativity and fluency. Even now, she kept a silent tally in her head. This one rated a solid 8, which wasn't bad given her lack of sleep over the past few nights. She felt her way down his arms, lingering on an elbow that felt swollen and warm, before returning to his shoulders. "Not too bad. How about your stomach?"

He nodded and she slid her hands down to his ribs as she helped him lay back on the table. Settled, Helen gave him a moment to adjust to the change before she began to slide her hands down to his stomach. Gentle palpitations provoked a few winces, but nothing that seemed to indicate internal damage, which she reported to Will happily. He nodded, but made no comment. Slowly, she worked her way down his legs, noting cuts and bruises, but no greater injuries, thankfully.

Finished, she carefully leaned against the edge of the table and began to rub circles over his belly. His eyes rose to hers in confusion, but Helen kept her mouth shut and an eye on his shoulders as the tension slowly ratcheted down a few notches. _So, a little bent, but not broken, if touch still calms you down._ Her eyes strayed over to his pulse point, worriedly marking the cadence, but it had lessened as well. _Not enough, given the heart damage from Kali that you refuse to discuss. Let's see if you're more open on this subject, shall we._

Before she decided how to broach the subject of Paraguay, however, Will's hand rose up to catch hers mid-motion. Surprised, she glanced up to find him watching her.

"I, I'm okay, Magnus," he reassured solemnly. "I'm just," his other hand moved to rub over his face, "maybe you're right. Maybe I should head up to bed."

"Or," Helen suggested softly, deciding to press a little given that she had the opening, "maybe you could tell me what happened in Paraguay."

His body immediately froze and the hand on hers tightened almost painfully.

"Paraguay?" he repeated, with an attempt at a laugh that failed completely, "What, you just can't wait for the report?"

Letting go of her hand, Will carefully lifted himself back into a sitting position. She moved her hands slowly to help him up and hid a smile at his confusion when they wound up hip to hip: him sitting on the edge of the table with her arm tucked around his back while she stood at his side. Hadn't he learned by now that she always had a trick up her sleeve?

"Let's say that I can't," she directed his attention back to their conversation without giving him time to dwell on her proximity. "What happened?"

"Nothing exciting," he mumbled to his feet. "I went, we argued, they gave in, it's up and running. I came back."

"I do hope your report has a few more details," Helen remarked drily, mainly to see if she could get a smile out of him at the least.

"One or two," and there was a shade of that cheeky tone at last.

"Quite a relief," tentatively, she let her thumb smooth up and down over his ribs, just enough to remind him of her presence without causing him to pull away. _Hopefully._

"It _was_ pretty straight-forward, though," Will said, leaning into her hand almost imperceptibly. "The staff was mostly concerned about working with outside forces which, given their histories, is more than understandable. Once I convinced them that not all outsiders would hurt them and gave them a few defensive tips as a back-up measure, things went much smoother."

Helen let herself combine a proud smile with a slight hug, "I'm sure it was a bit harder than that, Will. I've seen the intake pool and the communication line reports from Paraguay and the improvement has been quite impressive. You did excellently."

He ducked his head in the manner she had half-predicted. For someone so eager that people be recognized for their hard work, Will was surprisingly bad at accepting compliments.

"There's quite a bit left to be done," he admitted. "I think the staff is still half-convinced that they would be better off cutting themselves off from all outside agencies and operating under the cover of darkness." He grimaced and tucked himself into her side slightly. Under his breath, she could hear him whisper, "Some more than others." The hint of a suspicion grew stronger and Helen couldn't help but probe at the point slightly. _This might not go well._

"Hm. Anyone in particular we should keep an eye on?" she asked lightly. Suddenly, Will pulled away, sliding off the table gingerly.

"Nah," he answered shortly, "Can the rest of the details keep? My bed's calling me from here. You know how it is, one plane crash and suddenly all I can think of is sleep."

The cavalier tone didn't distract Helen from his distance and the fact that he wouldn't look at her, apparently finding a tray of gleaming surgical instruments fascinating instead.

"It seems I've heard that complaint before," she mused and was rewarded by Will looking up to catch her eye before sharing a tiny smile.

"I do have some data to back up my hypothesis, thanks to you," he said, smile widening slightly.

"I'm not sure why I'm to blame," she protested, gathering a tray of gauze, tape, and antibacterial cream, "You were in those planes as well."

She kept him focused on the light banter as she lightly bandaged his cuts and wrapped his swollen elbow, then ushered him out of the infirmary. Ignoring when he flinched and extending every moment of contact offered, she managed to relax him enough that he was within a normal distance of her before they reached her office.

"Oh," Will said, sounding surprised, "guess I walked you to your office by mistake. I'll just head back now." Smiling sheepishly, he turned before Helen could speak. At her voice, she noted, he stopped, but didn't turn back around.

"I thought you knew," she said, skirting around the edges of the truth. She had hoped he'd guessed, but the lack of protest had pretty much told her that he didn't know, "I want you to stay here tonight, or today rather, so that I can keep an eye on that concussion. The scan was a bit worrying."

Finally turning, Will gave her a narrow stare looking, Helen was fairly certain, for any of those small signs that told him so ably if he could work around her from some angle. She didn't know what those signs were, but tried to project resolution and sheer stubbornness to offset them, if possible.

Perhaps it worked. In any case, he simply sighed before walking back towards her office and she ushered him in ahead of her.

Getting him back into bed was a great deal harder.

Helen wasn't certain if Will didn't want to sleep or didn't want for her to leave but, either way, he couldn't seem to bring himself to tell her the problem. Instead, he first struck up a conversation regarding the goings-on at the Sanctuary while he'd been gone and, once she gave him the highlights and told him she would bring him up to date later, had suddenly decided to take a shower, after which she had to corral him once more to reapply bandages.

After _that_ brief interlude, the only thing that prevented him from bolting for the kitchens instead was the tray that she had arranged with her Old Friend while Will was showering. Not that he ate much, Helen noted with disapproval. He had lost weight down south, a fact that she was personally annoyed by as it had taken her several months of concerted effort to get that weight back on him after the events of last fall. Now, she would have to start all over.

"I'd say that your eggs have been sufficiently subdued, Will," she finally interrupted his half-hearted efforts to pretend that he was eating. If his blinking became any slower, he'd have time for a cat nap between each one.

"What?" Will shook himself from a daze to survey his plate with a hint of disgust. "Oh, right. Sorry."

"Bed," she demanded firmly. Gentle suggestions had been getting her nowhere and her patience, as much as she tried to hide the fact, was extremely limited. Her father had always chided her for her temper – so had James, for that matter. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Helen considered that she should perhaps get some sleep herself if the past was intruding so easily on her mind.

Will shifting uneasily across from her drew her attention back to the present and the small table they were at in a corner of her office.

"I should really get caught up," he temporized, playing with the rim of his glass, "and if I sleep now, it'll take me longer to get back on a proper schedule up here."

"You're concussed and exhausted, Will," keeping her voice from sliding down out of 'stern' to 'iron' with difficulty. _Don't frighten him, Helen, he's had enough of that. Strangling him is out, too. Behave_. "I expect you to need enough sleep to cover both this afternoon _and_ tonight. Catching up can wait until tomorrow. Besides, that will give the rest of us time to go over your Paraguay notes and collect ours together for you." Helen hesitated for a moment. _Should I offer... he would never accept it, normally. Nothing about this is normal, though._ At the look of stubbornness crossing Will's face, she tentatively continued, "Would a sedative help?"

"No!" he rejected violently, startling her. "I mean, you know I don't like taking drugs," he smiled weakly, "besides I don't really need any help falling asleep right now, do I?"

"Not in the least," she said, grateful for the opening, "shall we?" Gesturing towards the off-bedroom while rising, Helen simply stared down at Will, trying to give the clear impression that she was waiting for him to join her. Reluctantly, he shuffled to his feet and edged towards the bedroom.

Never had she realized how many objects – papers, books, statues, small pieces of furniture – there were cluttering up her office that could conceivably need to be straightened between the table and the off-bedroom door. Perhaps she should embrace minimalism again, Helen mused, as they finally reached the door and Will slipped over the threshold as though it might snap shut and eat him whole.

Leaving him to lurk by the entrance, she crossed the room herself to turn down the bed clothes. Fluffing the pillows, she tried to pretend that she didn't see her protégé all but sneaking up on a bed.

"In with you," she finally prompted as Will turned to fiddle with the bedside lamp. The fear she caught in his swiftly averted eyes almost broke her heart.

"Come, m'lad," Helen said in softer tones, sympathy overriding the exasperation wrought from her own tiredness and worry, "You're going to fall asleep on your feet soon."

"Actually, I'm feeling more awake," he protested, but sank down onto the bed anyway. His fingers reached out to run over the covers in a nervous motion.

Making certain that he saw her move, Helen reached down slowly and tapped his legs. Will still flinched slightly, but swung himself onto the bed and she swiftly tucked the covers over him.

"I hardly need to be tucked in, Magnus," he chuckled weakly.

"Hm," she didn't disagree outright, "Turn on your side."

After a confused look, which she countered with one raised eyebrow, Will rolled so that his back was to her, although he couldn't seem to help watching her over his shoulder.

Pretending unconcern at the fact, Helen sat behind him and began rubbing circles over his back, careful to avoid spots she'd noticed bruises at earlier. After the initial tension, his muscles started to loosen incrementally. When he turned to bury his face against the pillow, she let herself smile slightly in victory.

It took over half-an-hour before Will's breathing settled into a sleeping rhythm. Even then, Helen only felt secure enough to make a small run for her tablet and a cup of tea, settling back down next to Will with an anxious peek at his pulse and respiration.

Earlier, she'd managed a quick run-through of Will's reports from Paraguay and had constructed a timeline of his activities, noting blank spots. After some thought, she had also gone back and noted where his reports began to change, slowly and subtly, from his usual breezy style to terse, staccato statements. By his last report, Helen had flashbacks to the early days of the telegraph.

Reports settled, she removed those to the back burner, combing through her purloined files for information on the staff and residents at the Rio Paraguay Haven. Particularly the staff – Will's manner had been decidedly reticent when it came to them, in a way that rang alarm bells.

Unfortunately, as she pressed further into the staff backgrounds, Helen found them all much of a piece: sad, haunted, and with good reason to distrust humans and outsiders. As Will had said, they couldn't be blamed for their fear and it was a testament to his abilities that he had managed to persuade them to work so far outside of their comfort zone in such a short period of time. He wouldn't believe her – Will still had that touching faith that she could work miracles – but Helen was fairly certain that she couldn't have accomplished so much herself.

The object of her pride at that moment began to fret, wriggling backwards in the bed until his back was pressed against the side of her leg, trembling.

"Sh," she reached down and let him cling to one hand as she carded through his hair with the other, "It's alright. You're safe now."

He was safe, yes. As Helen glanced back at her tablet, though, the question played insistently across her mind: Safe from what?


	4. A Search for Information

Helen readied herself for the Wednesday morning staff meeting with trepidation. When Will had woken late in the afternoon the preceding day, he had insisted upon heading back to his own room to spend the night. As the danger zone for the head trauma had passed and he seemed more himself, although still alarmingly skittish, she had let him go despite her better judgment. She shifted her notes once more, hoping that her actions hadn't been a mistake.

Unsurprisingly, her Old Friend was the first to arrive, settling a service at the table between the seating before staking out the chair next to the one she always took. Kate and Henry arrived next, arguing loudly until they crossed the threshold, where the conflict dropped to _sotto voce_ utterances of 'did not' and 'did too' that they clearly thought she couldn't hear. Tamping down a smile, Helen let them continue in their belief for now – it was always something she could spring on them later. Concerned, she glanced at her watch. Normally, Will showed up shortly after her Old Friend, sometimes even before if he needed to speak with her. Perhaps he had simply overslept; this would be the one time that she might let him get away with it.

As she moved to take her seat, however, Will slipped in the door and hesitated before taking the only remaining seat next to Kate on the sofa. Helen gave him a smile as she seated herself, opening her portfolio over her knees to being the meeting to order.

"First off, as you all know, Will is back from Paraguay," he responded to Henry's quip and her Old Friend's gruff greeting with a smile, but she thought her heart would stop when Kate went to punch him on the shoulder and he flinched into the arm of the sofa. A heavy silence descended.

"I haven't been gone long enough not to remember how you hit," he awkwardly joked, before Helen could break the moment.

"Jerk," Kate said, nudging him with her foot and – Helen thanked the heavens – pretending that she didn't see him jump at the touch.

Clearly, a good night's sleep, if that's even what he'd gotten, hadn't taken care of the problem.

"We've all read his reports," she moved on quickly, raising an eyebrow at Kate, who had the tendency to skip what she called 'the boring parts' of reports, which generally turned out to translate as 'all of it.' The girl blushed and she lowered her brow in a gesture she'd perfected over the years to convey: 'Fix that immediately.' It had gotten quite polished after Ashley's arrival. She accepted the wave of heat and loss that tightened her chest for a moment then cleared her throat to move the meeting forward. "I hope, but is there anything you need to add, Will?"

Henry leaned forward, riveted, and Helen didn't flatter herself that it was out of a keen interest in collating useful information. He and Kate were undoubtedly waiting for the first hints of an anomaly. Will somehow always managed to work in one story only vaguely relevant to their concerns, but incredibly entertaining nonetheless, and she pretended not to know that bets road on who could pick it out first. _Yes, because you get no enjoyment out of it whatsoever._ Helen suppressed a smile at the thought. She played her part, feigning annoyance at his antics, even as his eyes twinkled at her over the other's heads that she wasn't fooling him in the slightest. Admittedly, seeing how he would try to make a generally silly mishap pertain to legitimate Sanctuary business was always educational. It was also, perhaps, a bit fun.

"Um, no," Will said, gazing down at the table, "It was pretty cut and dry. That is," he looked up, suddenly anxious, "unless anyone had any questions about the reports?" Clearly seeing the confusion that Henry and Kate were telegraphing to each other, he gave out a lop-sided smile that only lasted a brief second, "Didn't even have the chance to trip over anything for once. Sorry, guys."

"Better luck next time?" Henry tried, uncertain. At a Look from her Old Friend, he winced and hurried to say, "That is, I didn't have any questions. Um, awesome work, though. The message system we set up with them is humming along great."

Will simply nodded and Helen thought it best to move on with the schedule, "We'll forward you any questions we think of later, alright? Now, Kate, I believe you had an update on the arms deal from last night?"

Worryingly, Will's attention barely deviated from memorizing the grain of the coffee table for the rest of the meeting.

* * *

_Date: Monday After I Left – Whenever that is. The time zone change is still eluding me._

_Location: Asuncion Sanctuary, Asuncion, Paraguay_

_Report:_

_I got caught up on Asuncion intakes and recent exploits this morning._

_Note: The 'slimy' part of the blue-bellied river creature's Latin name is there for a reason. Accurate does not begin to cover it._

_Note to Magnus: Given their recent influx, I'm not certain that they have the staff to cover all bases anymore. Not that you'll get Dr. Benitez to admit the fact. You might suggest she take on a few new hires for training purposes; that might get a better reception._

_In the afternoon, representatives from the Rio Paraguay Haven arrived. Kay Torres and Robert Galeano, the founder and second hand respectively, came ostensibly to welcome me to Paraguay and make sure I had transportation, but really I believe they wanted to give me the once over before permitting me access to the Haven. The bios given to me by the Asuncion Sanctuary are attached._

_Personally, Ms. Torres seems very eager to get our input on the various troubles they've had getting off the ground. If this endeavor goes well, she might be more receptive to acting as a Sanctuary ally. Mr. Galeano is more reticent, almost aggressively so, as of yet I'm uncertain if this is because I'm an outsider or not an abnormal. He seems equally uncomfortable around both. There's a lot of work ahead on that front, I suspect._

_I got the rundown of current ops and staff. A complete list is attached. They have four other full time staff and numerous contacts willing to engage in operations and/or part-time assistance. Many of the latter are Sanctuary-affiliated, which they seem fine with, so long as there is a personal acquaintanceship and, I get the sense, it is preferable if they are local to the area and abnormal. So far, I'm striking out on all three fronts, so this may be an up-hill battle._

_The conference ended with a finalization of plans (tentative schedule attached) and they retired to the Haven for the night, while I finished up at the Sanctuary._

_Tomorrow, I'm to head out to the Haven. Dr. Benitez has loaned me a 4X4 and a map in lieu of an escort that I don't need and they can't spare. Future reports may be weekly, dependent upon facilities._

_Report close._

* * *

"Hey, Doc?"

Helen looked up at Henry's voice, smiling when she saw him hovering in the doorway.

"Henry," she said, pushing away from her desk slightly, "This is a surprise. I thought you and Will had some type of film marathon planned." Her voice rose on the last word in question. She hadn't seen Will since he had avoided her at the end of the staff meeting that morning, pleading mountains of catching up in his office.

"Yeah," Henry ran a hand over his head, clearly nervous. "We did."

"What's wrong?" Helen rose and stepped from behind the desk, motioning for Henry to enter the room fully. "Did something happen?"

"Not exactly. It's," he paused, finally entering, and taking a seat next to her on the sofa at her gesture. "Look, Doc, I know that you have that whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing and I'm cool with that. Don't want any details, ever, it's good. But," he hesitated again.

"Henry," she leaned down slightly to catch his eye where it was concentrating on the sofa pattern with such intensity that she half-expected it to catch fire. "It's alright, whatever you need to ask. If I can't tell you, I'll simply say so. No recriminations."

"Right. Good. It's… Did something happen?" he blurted out in one quick breath. "I mean, is he alright?"

"Why do you ask?" Helen deflected, wondering if his flinching had grown even more noticeable. Will was already hiding it much more poorly than he thought.

"He was – off, tonight. Just really jittery, like he'd downed some massive amount of caffeine five seconds ago," Henry squinted up at her, worried. "You know the guy; he's got concentration that could stop a train. He couldn't even last five minutes into the movie. He was all over the place, pacing."

Helen took a breath, uncertain what she was going to say, but Henry continued over her.

"And I couldn't even get near him. I got within, like, two feet and suddenly his heart's going like a frickin' jack rabbit," Henry paused for a moment, voice quieting from his previous agitation. "He smells like fear, Doc. Lots of it. And pain."

She sighed, reaching out at the sorrow in Henry's voice to take his hand. She couldn't lie, not to Henry who sensed so much anyway and valued Will so highly as one of his few close friends.

"To be honest, Henry," she finally settled upon, "I don't know what happened."

He stiffened, trying to pull away from her, but Helen kept a firm grip on his hand.

"I promise, I am working on it, but he's playing this one close to the vest," she ducked her head to catch Henry's eyes again, "I will figure it out. I promise."

Henry shifted again, but into her this time, wrapping his other hand over hers.

"I know you will. I don't want to add any more pressure," after a beat, he continued, "What can I do? I want to help."

Helen smiled at him softly, "For now, simply be there for him. He knows that I suspect and is giving me quite a wide berth. I want him to have someone nearby to depend upon if he should need it."

"Of course," Henry nodded, "Anything else? To help you out?"

"Not at the moment," she said, considering the information she had yet to go through on the tablet, "but I expect that will change once I have a better sense of where I need to focus attention. I'll let you know."

"Good. Anything you need."

Helen nodded, smiling at him briefly before tugging him close to kiss his temple. She could hear him taking in deep draughts of her scent, calming himself, and wished for a moment that she could simply fly to Paraguay and force the answers out of someone with a few well-placed punches. She needed to know who to threaten first, however, and she leaned her cheek against Henry's hair tiredly.

Then, if she was lucky, she could break a few bones.

* * *

_FROM: lbenitez_

_TO: hmagnus_

_RE: Information On Haven Staff And Residents_

_Dr. Magnus,_

_I am given to understand that you have all of our current intel on Haven, although I've attached a copy of our files in case they have been updated since your receipt. As for personal impressions of staff and residents, I can give you only my own biased opinions._

_Their Head, for lack of a better term, Kay Torres, is a suspicious but relatively measured person. At our initial meeting, she demanded to know my connections to the area and how I came to be in my current position. Once reassured about the particulars of my background, she has since trusted me to some extent in situations regarding abnormals and the Sanctuary Network. Those of my staff who are outsiders (to the region) she regards warily, particularly those who are also not abnormal. This dislike is gradually diminishing, but it has taken considerable time and contact. Unsurprising, given her treatment when young at the hands of traders in abnormals. In short, she is suspicious, cagey, and prejudiced, but I regard her as generally trustworthy and totally committed to the cause of the Haven._

_Her Second, Robert Galeano, I know less well. Typically, he remains at the Haven when she comes to deal with us. From his background, I know that he is a hard man, well-versed in the seedier elements of the abnormal world. I also know that he and Ms Torres, on occasion, disagree about the measures to which they should resort to protect the Haven. However, he has behaved with nothing but the utmost of courtesy to myself and my staff, with a deep concern for the abnormals under their care. Violence is occasionally a necessary evil in our work, as you know, and I do not condemn him out of hand for it._

_The other members of the staff I have met once or twice. Dr. Oscar Martinez, the facility doctor, has consulted with me before; he seemed sober and serious, a fine physician in his practice. Lina Vera and Micha Duarte, who gave me the impression that they serve in all aspects as needed, were a bit rough around the edges, but efficient and kind to newly relocated abnormals. Sofia Acosta, the onsite tech, is a bit distant, but very capable. I believe that she and Dr. Zimmerman worked closely in the effort to set up the outside communication lines._

_Speaking of whom, I do hope that Dr. Zimmerman has taken some rest upon his return. He visited the Sanctuary before his flight to Old City and seemed quite haggard._

_As regards your suggestion that we take on a few trainees here in Asuncion; after speaking with my staff, I believe that we could accommodate the need very well and would be happy to lend a hand. Please forward me any requests that you deem fit._

_I realize that the above information is not much to contribute. If there is any way I can be of greater help, please let me know._

_Respectfully,_

_L. Benitez_

* * *

Progress was frustratingly slow in winnowing out useful information from the deluge of files she was processing. By the time the weekend came around, Helen found herself still at a loss for how to proceed and the one man who could give her the hint of a lead showed all the signs of going to ground should she so much as press lightly on the subject. Assuming she could keep him in the same room as herself for more than five minutes at a stretch.

It was the middle of the night and she was going over the files one more time, willing something to pop, when Kate strode into her office, announcing herself with a casual, "Heya, Boss."

"Good evening," Helen replied, curious why Kate was seeking her out at this hour. Usually, the young woman was hitting the gym about this time in an effort to exhaust herself enough to catch a few hours of sleep while it was still dark. She was beginning to believe that no amount of time would turn a night prowler into someone who could operate on a normal, daily schedule.

"So, I'm guessing you set Will on more arms training?" she let herself fall easily into a chair across the desk from Helen. "Not that he doesn't really need it – just curious."

"No, actually," she set her work aside to focus on Kate, "I haven't. I assume he's taking the initiative?"

"Huh," Kate frowned, looking more at Helen's desk than her face, "He's not real big on that, though I can't imagine why. We have the best toys," she sent a saucy grin Helen's way and got a smile in response.

"Well, Henry does try," she admitted, "and I do ask everyone to keep their skills sharp. In our line of work, it doesn't pay to get sloppy."

"Yeah, gotcha there," Kate nodded emphatically. "Only… not to be, like, a gossip biddy or something, but he seemed really… focused."

"Focused," she repeated blankly.

"Yeah, and not in the good way. He barely hit the target at all, way too tense, and," Kate stopped, chewing on her lip. Helen didn't say anything, giving her time to think things through. Either Kate would tell her or she wouldn't, coaxing was usually of little avail.

"When he stopped shooting," Kate rewarded her silence, "it was worse."

After a beat, she couldn't help but prompt, "Worse how?"

"Worse, like… he just sort of collapsed. Not literally," Kate hurried on to say, clearly responding to the panic Helen felt leap inside of her, "of course, or you'd have gotten a page to the range. Just, I don't know, into himself. I can't," she huffed a breath in frustration. "Look, I can't explain it, it was just bad. I was gonna say, if you'd asked him to go, maybe not to, but if you didn't, then." Kate shrugged, as though she didn't know quite where to go from there.

"Has," it was Helen's turn to pause and search for the right phrasing. How to get information from Kate without violating Will's trust. "Has he seemed… himself to you, lately? Since he got back?" She finally asked, slowly, hoping that it was the right move to make.

"To be honest, Doc – No. He's," Kate scowled at her knees for a moment. "Maybe not the best comparison, but have you ever seen those adorable baby monkey looking abnormals with the disturbing habit of drinking blood?"

Helen rattled off the Latin name in response. She knew them far too well, actually. Once their diet of blood was discovered, Nikola had taken an unhealthy and all-pervasive interest in them for months. That was bad enough in itself, but he had insisted on working out of her Sanctuary. It had allowed her to keep an eye on his progress and methodologies, but months of hearing of little else aside from those blessed monkeys and her lack of tolerable wine had been simply the outside of enough. In retaliation, she had researched every possible avenue of those blasted monkeys herself and unloaded it onto Nikola all at once. It had worked, sent him away in a huff, but she still probably knew more about those creatures than was strictly healthy, even with the decades that had passed.

"Right. Those. Anyway, a guy and I were running them once. You know," she ducked her head, looking uncomfortable, "before all this. And," she rushed to continue over the understanding nod, "well, the guy was a total creep, right? I didn't know that then, until I caught him with one of the monkeys." Kate swallowed hard before admitting, "He was starving it, only he wasn't not giving it food. He'd put blood in the cage and then shock him when he tried to drink. By the time I caught him at it, the poor thing," she took a moment, frowning at a crease in her jeans, "it was just skin and bones and I couldn't even save it. It just gave up eating and he looked so… trapped. Like he didn't know what to do, so not doing anything just seemed safer." There was a long moment of silence. "He died. I, uh, I mostly worked alone after that."

Kate didn't seem to have any more words left and kept her gaze down, running her finger back and forth across the crease single-mindedly.

"And Will reminds you of that?" Helen asked gently, redirecting her off of the clearly painful subject, "Trapped?"

"Yeah," Kate all but whispered, "Like he doesn't know what's going to hurt him anymore."

Helen closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. When she opened them again, it was to Kate's concerned gaze now focused on her.

"Hey, I don't want to cause any trouble, I just… wanted to make sure everything was good."

"No, Kate, it's not you," she hurried to ease her mind, "It's… to be honest, it's Will." If Will was hiding these signs so poorly, she wasn't going to cover up for him, Helen decided. Certainly not from those who were trying to help. "I've noticed his behavior as well. As has Henry. I simply cannot discern exactly what happened in Paraguay that is causing it." Exasperation crept into her tone despite her best efforts.

"Hence the late nights? Or should I say, early mornings?" Kate motioned across the desk. "I know you pretty much don't sleep, but it's been a ton worse this week."

"Yes," she admitted, "Vain hope, I suspect. His reports are littered with blank spots, the backgrounds on nearly all of the Haven members are unsettling at best, and apparently not one soul at the Asuncion Sanctuary can remember any helpful details."

"Send me the info," at Helen's curious look, she expanded, "I did a few runs down there. Still have some contacts, maybe I can dig up something. Worth a shot, anyway."

"That would be wonderful, Kate, thank you," she tapped a few commands into the tablet to make them available to the other woman. "There you are. Let me know if anything turns up."

"Will do," Kate hopped out of the chair, quickly making for the door.

Helen turned back towards her cluttered desk with a sigh.

"Hey," she looked up to see Kate lingering in the doorway, "Don't worry. He's back here now and we'll figure it out, Boss."

She smiled softly and replied, "Yes, we will."

As Kate headed off down the hallway, Helen let her smile fade. She had a feeling that discovering the events of Paraguay, while a struggle, would be only half the battle. Convincing Will to let them help would be the other half.

Helen suspected it would be much more difficult.

* * *

_Katie,_

_Now there was a shock, hearing from you after all these years. Only you would have the nerve to ask a favor after the shit you pulled down here. Still, the money's good, here's what you paid for. All the nitty-gritty's in the package, but here's the low-down. My advice? Stay the hell away from these nuts. Sure, they're playing nice with their Haven now, but these guys are no one to be messing with._

_Their leader, Kay Torres? Over a dozen felony assaults, only no one's been able to keep a hand on her. That Doctor fellow isn't much better, only his generally come flavored with a scalpel or poison. A double-handful of cases that somehow just can't be pinned on him. Sofia Acosta is barred from entry into dozens of countries. Seems she has a habit of hacking into official databases. Couple of knifing incidents, too. Lina Vera and Micha Duarte have operated as a team for years, only they used to team up just about the time valuable merchandise had a habit of disappearing. Lots of solid alibis from not-so-solid folks who were none too happy to talk about things._

_That last guy, though, Robert Galeano, he's the one tripping my radar. On paper, the guy's lily-white. Never done nothing to nobody. You ask around down here and nobody says word one – but they know his name. And they leave right fast when the questions get specific. I almost got my nose broken on a slamming door. Hazard pay is extra, Katie, you know that, right?_

_Anyway, it's all here, interviews, dossiers, and a couple of things I had to pay through the nose for. Price on those is higher._

_Do what you want with it, you always have. Just try and not get yourself killed before I get the rest of my money._

* * *

Kate was better than her word. A week later, Helen was in her office once more, reading through cluttered sheaves of notes that highlighted one Haven member or another, reorganizing her list of suspects.

When her Old Friend entered with a late tea tray, she welcomed him with a delighted smile. Generally, after a certain hour of the night, she was on her own if she suddenly fancied a fresh cuppa.

"You read my mind," she teased gently as he passed over a perfectly fixed cup across the expanse of her desk.

"Not my skill," he smiled gruffly.

When he lingered, Helen blinked and gestured at the chairs before her, "I'm sorry, won't you join me?"

"No," he said and then, confusingly, took a seat. When he didn't reach for the tray, though, she translated and set her own cup aside to focus on him.

"What is it?" Helen asked, concerned.

He huffed sharply. "Will," he said simply, leaving her to infer his concern.

"Ah," she sat back, hand reaching out to fiddle with the handle of her tea cup. "You too, my friend?"

"He flinches," he stated boldly, "Today he forgot himself."

"Forgot himself?" Helen left off playing with the cup as her attention sharpened suddenly. "What do you mean?"

"Flinched longer," he tried to explain. "Took a while to get him back. Couldn't see me."

She sighed, tea forgotten, and let her head lean forward into the cradle of her hands. A large, warm hand covered her own where they rested against her forehead.

"He's getting worse," she finally whispered, grateful that she didn't have to gloss over the situation with her oldest friend. He would let her be uncertain.

"Hm," he hummed in agreement. "Not so bad."

"What?" Helen's head rose suddenly in confusion.

"Not hiding," he pointed out. "Feels safe."

"Not safe enough," she disagreed. "He's still afraid, still hiding from me. Literally."

"You've let him," clearly a question, although he disguised it as a statement.

"If I push," she sighed again, feeling as though she had been doing too much of that lately, "I don't know what will happen. Yes, he might open up. Or," she hesitated.

"Or?"

Tossing him a look – did he think she didn't know that trick? – Helen continued her thought, " _Or_ , it might drive him further away. I haven't been willing to chance it yet. Not without knowing more of what happened than I do now."

"Can't wait much longer," he warned.

"I know," she frowned, looking over the piles of paper that stubbornly refused to coalesce. "I know."


	5. A Puzzle of Pieces

Helen waited until the next night to go Will-hunting. After his encounter with her Old Friend, she reasoned, he would hardly be persuadable. Even the space of only a day might not be enough, but she was reluctant to wait any longer. Perhaps she could make the event work in her favor.

Somewhat to her surprise, Will was in the first place Helen looked out of a desire to be thorough: his office. When she saw the light slipping out in the small space above the floor, she rapped on the door. No answer greeted her, but as it was too late for patients and the office was silent, she cracked the door open a smidge anyway to make certain that Will was out before she headed to the next place on her mental list. It would have been a fruitless search had she not – he was curled up on the couch, back pressed against the wall.

Deciding that their talk would have to be postponed if Will was actually managing to sleep on his own, Helen slipped into the room, looking around for a blanket to cover him up for the night. A quick search yielded a soft brown plaid throw in a cupboard and she settled it over him before turning to leave. At the door, however, he uttered a soft sound and she turned around to see if he had awakened.

Not awake, no, but Helen recognized the signs that he was beginning to fall into a nightmare quite well after the night of his return – almost two weeks ago now. He fell fast; before she could even return to his side he was beginning to claw at the blanket, pressing himself harder into the wall.

"Will, it's alright," had no effect, as she settled onto the couch beside him. Taking a sterner tone, she ordered, "Will. You need to wake up now. Wake up," and reached out to shake him gently.

With a start, he jerked back into the wall and blinked up at her, disoriented.

"Hey there," Helen tried, softer, "Are you back?"

He nodded absent-mindedly, eyes darting about to take in the details of his office.

"What," Will began hoarsely and stopped to clear his throat. "Why are…uh, did you need…" he trailed off, clearly uncertain how to ask what exactly she was doing in his office.

"We need to talk," she plunged in, determinedly.

"Did something happen?" he struggled to sit up fully, flinching when she put out a hand to help his efforts. This time, she didn't pull back, keeping her hand on his side and looking him in the eye.

"I don't know, Will. That's what we need to talk about. And this," she deliberately dropped her gaze to her hand before bringing it back to his wide-eyed stare.

"I, I don't know what you mean," he mumbled unconvincingly, pulling back into himself and the wall once he was upright.

Helen followed, settling beside him, "Be honest with me, Will. I know you don't want to talk about whatever happened in Paraguay, but do me the favor of at least not lying about it."

"It," she watched, disturbed, as the fight left him visibly. "It doesn't matter," he said in the smallest voice she'd ever heard from him.

"Clearly it matters to you, Will," Helen spoke softly, willing him to open up to her. "That means it matters."

"No," he said almost reflectively, to himself. "It doesn't," she resisted the urge to shake her Will back into the despondent form beside her. "I should go sleep in my actual bed," he tried to joke, weakly, moving as though to stand.

Not this time. "Not until we're done," she said, firmly.

He laughed, the horrible fake laugh he'd developed since his return. She hated that laugh. "What more do you want? I'm tired, I had a nightmare – not exactly an unusual occurrence – and I'll be fine in the morning."

"Oh, this in the magic night?" Why was she doing this? She was the worst person to be doing this – her temper always got the better of her. Already in the middle of what was brewing to be an ugly fight wasn't the best place to have this realization, though. "Somehow this night will accomplish what all the others haven't since your return?"

"Do you find my work unsatisfactory?" There was a hint of her Will, she found in relief: temper just as sharp as her own when pressed the right way, never backing down simply because she was his boss and Helen Magnus.

"I'm not complaining about your work ethic, Will," she started.

"Then why the interrogation?" he snapped out before she could finish her sentence.

"I'm worried about you," Helen stated simply. After a pause, she continued over the top of whatever platitude he was preparing to hand her. "You're not sleeping well. You're jittery, irritable, constantly flinching, avoiding social contact whenever possible, avoiding _me_ at all costs, and refusing to discuss whatever happened in Paraguay to prompt such a drastic change in character."

"Nothing happened in Paraguay!" Anger spilling over, he stood suddenly and paced over to his desk before turning on her.

Helen took a deep breath. _Calm, stay calm, if you fight back this will not end well. He wants something to push against. Don't let him._

"Then explain this to me," she said, slowly, once able to speak calmly. "Why are you acting like this if nothing happened?"

"I'm not acting any differently," he bit out, fingers tightening on the edge of his desk. "I'm working. You said my work was fine."

"I said I wasn't complaining about your work ethic," Helen corrected. "But that isn't the point here, Will."

"I'm just tired," he broke in with a growl. She blinked, trying to recall if Will had ever taken that tone with her before. "It creates unpleasant side effects. I'll get some sleep, I'll be fine. So, if you'll just excuse me."

Before he'd taken two steps to the door, Helen made sure she was between him and escape. She did have the advantage of a few more hours of sleep, at the least. Will stopped short and glared at her. Fairly confident that he wouldn't try to force his way past, as they both knew who would win in a physical confrontation, she set herself in a solid stance nonetheless. _It isn't as though he's at his most rational at the moment. Better to be safe._

Apparently, however, he was not far gone enough to risk taking her on. Will contented himself with another glare before turning back to sink into the couch once more, running his hands over his face. She took the moment to look him over without his usual interception of her assessment. What she saw did not please her. The thin hollows of his cheeks were dusted with a few days growth that, added to the hair which looked as though it had either been through a windstorm or a long interval of hands running through it fiercely, meant that his standard of hygiene had lapsed considerably. His clothes, though no more casual than they ever were, showed creases that indicated a few days wear and hung loosely on his frame. She was interrupted mid-mental exam by a heavy sigh from Will.

"What do you want?" he asked wearily.

"The truth, Will," she responded, cautiously relaxing her stance and coming to sit next to him again. Her presence had brought him comfort before; even if he was trying to push her away, his unconscious might respond to her proximity. "I want to help you," she continued quickly before he could try and placate her, "something I cannot do if you refuse to tell me what is wrong."

"Nothing," he whispered, staring intently down at his hands, which he'd tightly interlaced. "There's nothing you can do."

Slowly, she reached over and clasped her own hands around his white-knuckled pair. "How will you know unless you let me try?"

In response, he merely shook his head, gaze hooded and far away. Whatever he was seeing was clearly not pleasant and Helen shook the hands between her own to bring him back to her.

"Talk to me, Will," she urged, leaning down to catch his eyes.

"There's nothing to say," he bit off, pulling his hands away to pace over to his desk and surveyed the top with evident disgust at the piles of paper erratically stacked at the edges.

Helen could hardly keep up with him tonight. It was as though she were trying to follow a single point on a centrifuge and Will was whirling too quickly through depression and anger and back again for her to keep her eyes focused.

"I can think of plenty I would like to hear you say," she said, watching his tight motions carefully, "starting with why you're not sleeping."

"Insomnia," he snapped, trying to straighten a stack of papers that responded poorly to his erratic shuffling motions.

"Not good enough," she said firmly. "Why aren't you sleeping, Will?" Repetition sometimes pushed him to answers he was trying to avoid. Of course, it worked better when he was close to her, but in his current mood it wouldn't take much to needle him.

"Let it go," he demanded loudly, slamming the paperwork back down and putting his back to her, settling into his chair and opening a file cabinet.

"Not this time," she responded, far more calmly than she felt. He was on the knife-edge of his temper; that she could tell. _Come now, out with it, lad._ "Answer me. Why aren't you sleeping, Will?"

Her only answer was the sliding sound of the file drawer shutting.

"Pretending I'm not here isn't going to get rid of me, Will," Helen cautioned, rising from the sofa to stand beside him, leaning back against the desk in a show of nonchalance. "I think you know how stubborn I can be. Give me an answer."

"No," he said in a quiet tone, firmly, not looking up from the label on the file drawer. "I'm fine. It'll be fine, Magnus."

She knew that tone – it meant that he had gotten it into his stubborn head that he was doing something damnably noble and there would be no budging him. At least not head-on. _But when was the last time you simply gave up, hm?_ If he wasn't going to do this the easy way, he didn't leave her much of a choice.

"No," Helen said, just as quietly and every bit as firmly, "You are not. And," she continued over the sentence spilling out of his mouth, "until such a time that you can convince me that you are getting proper sleep and nutrition, you're off the active list."

 _That certainly got his attention._ Before she could move, Will rose to confront her, face a study caught between anger and fear.

"You can't," he spluttered, "I am _fine_."

"I can and I will," she said, unmoving, "until and unless you tell me what is wrong and begin to improve."

"Nothing," he all but yelled, "Is. Wrong."

"Then you can use the time to catch up on sleep and meals and won't have any problems convincing me of your health," Helen put in without missing a beat. "On the other hand, if you cannot do that…"

"This is ridiculous," Will paced away from her, flinging his arms to the sides. "Paraguay went fine. You _told_ me Paraguay went well. Why are you _doing_ this?" He turned to face her accusingly.

"I'm not doing this to hurt you, Will," Helen tried, slowly. _Perhaps he might be willing to listen._

"No, you want to 'help' me. Except I don't _need_ help," he smacked one hand down open-palmed on the desk, "I _need_ for you to let me do my _job_."

"And as soon as you're in any condition to do so, I will be delighted to have you back," Helen met his eyes squarely, making certain not to flinch, "In the meantime, however, what you _do_ need…"

"Of course," Will broke in, "the Great Helen Magnus knows exactly what everyone else should be doing. Let's hear it, Magnus, what have I been doing wrong _this_ time?"

"Will," she knew her tone was nothing approaching even vaguely sympathetic, but was rather alright with that at the moment. They weren't going to make any headway tonight, not with Will's exhaustion, and there was only so much disrespect she was willing to accept, even from him, even given his current state. "To begin, you need to reign in that temper. No. Enough," she silenced his next outburst with a well-practiced glare and an iron tone. "I believe you mentioned getting some sleep? It is sorely needed. I think you should go now. And," she continued as he turned stiffly towards the doorway, "I don't expect to see you in the hallways until breakfast."

"Magnus," he half-turned as though to argue.

"You heard me," she nodded towards the doorway. "Go. Now." Deliberately, she turned to examine his file cabinets, as though expecting him to follow the order immediately.

As the door shut – loudly – behind his retreating figure, Helen closed her eyes and let out a controlled breath. She and Will clashed, often, in the professional sphere, with different methods of approaching the same problem bourn from their separate specialties and experiences. It was what made them a strong team, two perspectives backed by two strong personalities, made workable by the bone-deep respect and affection they had for one another.

Conflict in the personal realm, however, rarely proceeded as smoothly. Particularly when one of them forgot that the other did have the best of intentions. Helen tended to forget that less often than Will, but it did occur.

All of which was irrelevant, she reminded herself, opening her eyes, against the larger problem facing them.

Guiltily, she moved to the door and locked it from the inside. Turning to survey the office, Helen braced herself to begin with his desk. Any relevant information would likely be stored there. _Not my proudest moment_ , she reflected grimly, beginning the long task of pulling open drawers and shuffling through files and paperwork.

She was on the second drawer before she turned over an anomaly: a large file shoved haphazardly to the bottom of the drawer. _What have we here?_

Settling back in the chair, Helen opened the file out atop Will's unnervingly unorganized desk. Pushing aside the strangeness of sitting behind his desk for a change, she turned her attention to the contents before her, leaning forward to examine each page.

* * *

_As such, it seems only reasonable to conclude that while the two species share a common ancestry, the mutation dividing the two abilities has made them largely incompatible within the same specimen. Hitherto, no example of one specimen with both abilities has been discovered to general knowledge. Furthermore, it has been cautiously proven that the two abilities are genetically incompatible as well._

**_Note: Subj. experiences similar traits common to ability class (Ref. Figure 3.5), namely inability to dampen perception, no natural occurring resistance in other native species, and continued acuity with artificially generated attempts at shielding (Ref. Table 3.1)._ **

_Damndest thing I ever did see, Jake. I swear the girl recited the list of foods we had for breakfast at Mother's table the day Aunt Caroline was reported dead better than I ever thought I remembered them. Strange too, as she was looking – if that's the term – and reciting, I felt as though I could see it again too. And didn't THAT give me a turn._

**_…naturally occurring defensives in species along the Paraguay River, including expanded mental abilities, heightened visual perceptions, armored back plating…_ **

_My dear Will,_

* * *

At that heading, Helen blinked away from the paper at hand, the last in the file, glancing over to find that an hour had passed. Frowning, she leaned back once more, trying to place this new data in the framework she had already formed. The file was an extensive compilation about abnormals with abilities tied to memory and thought-sensing. On its own, that fact was alarming in itself. Following Will's line of research, however, from the broad data capture beginning the process, it narrowed down to one area of locale in particular: Paraguay.

It opened up as many questions as it answered, really.

Steepling her hands, Helen rubbed the bridge of her nose before making a decision and reaching for the phone.

"Henry," she asked when his voice absently answered the line, "I need some information."

Striving for a calm tone, she authorized Henry to pull all of Will's computer and phone records since his departure until the present.

"Send them to me when you're done, Henry," Helen finished, "unless you see something that requires immediate attention."

After his assurances that he would do so, Henry hung up to get started. Replacing the receiver, Helen looked back at the file spread across the desk and began to tidy it back into one sheaf. _Although I daresay he'll know what I've been about the moment he steps into the room. Damned perceptives._ With that thought, instead of replacing it, she reconsidered and laid it on the desk to take with her in case she needed further details after Henry's investigation.

Hesitating then, Helen glanced down at the drawers she had yet to look through. _Hardly worthwhile to scruple now_ , she told herself firmly, moving down to the third drawer.

Patient files, office supplies, case research, by the time she reached the last drawer, the normalcy of the remainder of the desk had relieved her enough that she easily slid it out with a brief glance at the contents.

Given that, it was understandable that she almost missed the vial.

The shift and pull of the drawer, though, caused glass to gently clink against the side of the drawer and she gave it a second look, pushing aside an awkwardly placed file. _Damnit Will. What the hell are you playing at?_ Will had taken pains to conceal it from the casual observer, but had clearly not expected for his desk to be actively searched. Helen slid aside the dummy file and drew from the drawer several wrapped syringes, a half-filled vial, a tourniquet, cotton balls, and bandages. Slowly, she placed them on her purloined file before she turned the vial with shaking fingers to read the label.

Amphetamines. Speed. The last thing he needed with his heart. Now the nervous tension, his pacing, his temper, it all made more sense. Drugs to stay awake, research to solve some underlying problem, all stemming back to one ill-timed visit to Paraguay.

"Oh Will," Helen whispered to the echoingly empty room, "Why won't you let me help you?"

That question she still couldn't answer. Gathering her ill-gotten gains in preparation for leaving the office, she decided to visit Henry to ensure that Will's records were pushed to the front of his queue. They were doubtless already there, but action would make her feel better. Speaking of action… Helen looked down at the file in her hand once more. It was the one thin barrier she had left intact, one small corner of privacy that she had left to him.

Drugs had a way of leveling barriers, though. Firmly, she shook away the echoes of another brilliant man dosing himself into oblivion, and laid her collection down once more. Flipping through to the back of the file, she withdrew the last sheet, the letter, and noted the date of a month ago. From before his return, then; he must have written to someone from Paraguay.

* * *

_My dear Will,_

_Never you mind about apologizing about time between letters. I know you've not forgotten me; you simply have a life to live. If you had nothing better to do than write an old woman every week, such dull letters I should receive!_

_Instead, I get an exotically stamped missive from Paraguay of all places. My neighbors are all exceedingly jealous. I'm considering lying about its origin to enhance the mystery. You won't mind being personified as a cartel leader who lost his heart to my white curls, would you now? With a mustache, I think. It adds a certain air to a man._

_But I don't believe that you were hoping to hear of my aged fantasies. You asked about Cousin Sylvia's wedding, I believe? Why you would want to remember that vain shrew is beyond me, but yes, you did have the details exactly right. Better than I remember it, in fact, you clever boy. I didn't ask her about it – as you were so hesitant to suggest. (How many times must I tell you that a little bluntness is a pleasure in this world? There are so few who will be honest to someone in their dotage, a sad fact.) In any case, she doesn't deserve to hear of you and shan't, from me at least. I am surprised that you remember it so clearly. You couldn't have been more than, what? Three? Three and following my blessed great-niece around like you were tied to her sash. Except for that short incident involving you, the ring-bearer, and the pudding, which I imagine you remember quite vividly, correct? Your poor mother, trying to scold you properly and conceal a grin at the same time – she never did get along with Sylvia all that well. Two peas in the pod you were, you and your mother, and none of those idiots with the good sense given to the oyster to realize that to be a gift._

_I must close now, my hands don't write as they once did, but I am glad to hear that you are doing well in this new so-mysterious job. I told you now, didn't I, that time would come when you would find a place of your own? Don't hold it against me, dearie. I-told-you-so's are one of life's few pleasures at my age. Write me when you can, but none of this apologizing nonsense. It's a waste of good paper you could use to tell me how the ocean is looking down there and if mustaches are still a going style._

_All my love._

* * *

Helen found that she was smiling by the end of the letter. There was one relation of Will's, at least, that she wouldn't mind meeting. One who had known her right hand even before he had come to Helen's attention. For a moment, her smile turned wicked. _Oh, the tales she could tell on him – starting with this pudding incident._ Images of a three-year-old Will and all the trouble he was undoubtedly causing at that age presented themselves to her mind's eye, before she shook off the light feelings. That three-year-old was now the same drugged and traumatized protégé she needed to heal. Standing here grinning at the wallpaper was hardly going to achieve that end. Gently, she tucked the letter at the end of the file before she gathered it and the paraphernalia once more.

Shutting and locking the door behind her, Helen entered her own code into the security panel, locking out all personnel, Will included. She would contact his patients to reschedule at a later date. _And there will be a later date_ , she told herself fiercely.

Unloading her armful in her office and touching base with Henry did give her the sense that events were progressing in a positive manner. A feeling that lasted until she slowed to a stop in front of Will's closed bedroom door. Per Henry's surveillance, set up at her insistence after discovering the drug stash, she knew that Will wasn't sleeping, preferring instead to sit at the window and watch the city below.

Stepping close to the door, she stopped with one hand on the knob and the other set of knuckles resting on the wood. Leaning forward to rest her forehead against the door, she let her hand unclench to press flat against the oak as she listened to the utter silence within.

After a moment, Helen withdrew, smoothing the front of her blouse as she stepped silently down the hall.


	6. A Task Half Done

Despite Henry's penchant for working miracles, it was two days before the file came to her – and even then it wasn't complete.

"I'm doing what I can, Doc, but retrieving files sent, received, and deleted on another system in Paraguay? It's taking some time."

"Understood, Henry. I know you're doing your best. Can you send me what you do have, then?"

"Can do. I've got emails and texts that were not deleted or simply deleted. I'm still working on the ones that were deleted and then buried by some sort of cryptography. I can tell you one thing, definitely wasn't Will doing this. Man couldn't find his way around this algorithm with a map and a guide dog."

"Yes, thank you, Henry," she ended, trying not to let her amusement show down the line. "Let me know what you find, please."

"Will do."

A short while later, a pop-up window at the bottom of her monitor showed a message from Henry. Accessing it ( _Here ya go, Doc.)_ and the file drive it contained, she let her chin fall down to rest upon the fist propped up on the desk. Henry had certainly taken her at her word. Every single email was listed by the subject line, while the texts, mercifully, were gathered into one document. _This is going to take a while,_ she acknowledged ruefully, which meant one thing.

This called for tea.

* * *

When she first learned to make tea, it was in a frail, bone china teapot her mother received on the occasion of her wedding. She wasn't supposed to touch it, of course, but Helen had forged a career largely out of doing that which was forbidden. Late at night, after the servants had left or retired and her father was ensconced somewhere ill-suited to the well-bred female, even a miniature one, she would steal down to the kitchens.

At first it required a chair and a strategic knee on a nearby shelf for her to reach the teapot, but that changed as the years passed and her inches grew. Teapot achieved, Helen would pass to the easier tasks: putting water to boil, retrieving the canister of tea, setting out a matching cup and saucer, hunting up milk and sugar until she outgrew the desire for sweetener, and settling everything just so. Then, in a ritual she dimly remembered and to which she clung fiercely, she would carefully add hot water to the pot, swirling it gently to warm it then discarding it, before she measured out the tea ("One teaspoon for the pot, my love, and one for each cup.") and add water to steep. Five precisely counted minutes later she had a perfect pot of tea and needed only to decide upon that night's entertainment from those tomes purloined from her father's library.

The march of time and technology had made inroads even into such hallowed institutes as the British cuppa. Helen easily moved about the stainless steel gleam of the Sanctuary kitchen, flipping the switch of the electric kettle. With the ease of long practice, she assembled a tray – cup and saucer, serviette, strainer – with precision. Not all changed with the passage of years. The click of the kettle finishing its cycle drew her back and, deftly, she warmed the pot before snagging a worn canister off of her tea shelf. Silently, she counted out teaspoons of the fragrant, leafy blend. _One for the pot, one per cup_ , and then she smoothly added water, replacing the small lid atop the pot. Removing the teapot to the tray, Helen took it up to move to her office. She had it timed to a science; by the time her walk back through the halls was at an end, the tea would be just ready.

If she got waylaid on the journey, it was generally somewhat bitter before she ever made it to her office. If her lab was involved, the tea was cold and stewed before she could pour the first cup. There were times Helen missed the cozy warmth of those endless, serene nights so long ago. For one thing, she always got to drink her tea.

One short walk later, she poured a steaming cup of tea, letting her eyes close as she inhaled the heady scent and cautiously took a first sip.

Delightful.

Fortified, she glanced across her desk at the stack of current files and global updates before turning her attention to the tablet resting innocuously before her. Taking firm hold of her will, she unlocked the screen, opened the file in this new location, and began her first inroads into the massive pile of data.

Once she began sifting, Helen found the initial stages easier than expected. Those communiques with various Sanctuaries could wait until later. If necessary, she would go back through them to hunt for small clues he might have left unwitting. Her expectations on that score were not high. Will was cautious at the best of times.

The remaining emails she divided according to the sender or recipient. One disturbing file collection were those emails that had no discernible person at the far end. Noting the dates, Helen saw they ran for only the week after his journey to the Haven. She wondered when the encrypted emails began.

Tapping out a quick message for Henry to that effect, she proceeded to open all the files within that folder and paced through them chronologically. They were not calculated to instill any sense of relief.

_You can't hide forever._

_I will know your purpose. And you will pay for it._

_Do you think I don't see you searching for me? You will regret it should you find me._

Feeling slightly ill, Helen opened the texts file. Searching through she saw messages that were much the same. Almost a week after the date that the emails ceased, however, the texts picked up once more. This time, however, they sounded like directions.

_Back corridor._

_3 hours._

_Meet me. You know where._

Clearly, Will had determined the identity of the person behind the threats. Clearly, this had only escalated the situation. Clearly, she damn well needed those encrypted emails.

Frustrated, she distracted herself with the mindless task of modifying her current timeline of events to include the occurrences of emails and texts, particularly the dates when they began and ended.

Task complete, she flicked back through the files she had practically memorized from study at every free interval. Perhaps it would be useful after all to examine Will's correspondence with the Sanctuaries. The feeling of hitting a dead end was one she always despised.

Instead, though, she stood to relocate to the bank of monitors. Toggling to the correct view, she watched Will staring motionlessly out the window once more. Since their confrontation the other night, he had refused to leave his room and ceased speaking to anyone who attempted to coax him out again. Helen knew that she would have to deal with that soon. She had hoped to have a few more answers first. Otherwise, she suspected the outcome would be no more successful than any other thus far.

* * *

With the passage of two more days, matters with Will were coming to a head. From surveillance, Helen knew that he was still steadily working on whatever was driving him beyond her reach. Unfortunately, she also knew that he was additionally haphazardly neglecting his health and – given that she had rarely caught him even attempting to sleep – the idea that he was still somehow taking drugs was a prevalent and alarming one. Henry felt that he was making progress, but even without the key to this infuriating puzzle, Helen knew that she couldn't wait much longer to force the confrontation with Will.

The ringing of her office phone interrupted her increasingly dark thoughts. Kate, in an apologetic tone, requested a little assistance, which Helen easily interpreted as 'crap, it's loose.' She almost welcomed the ensuing, utterly distracting fray.

"Now," she asked archly, once the creature was safely back in fire-proof containment and the only remaining task was to treat recently collected burns, "how, exactly, did our friend here manage to get loose on a completely different level than the one in which he was housed?"

"Ah," Kate stalled, "It's kind of a funny story."

"I could use a laugh," Helen commented. _You are not getting out of it that easily._

Before Kate could begin her – no doubt, highly creative – narrative of events, the walkie at Helen's hip squawked. Grimly, she detached it. Another escaped abnormal would really just put the cap to this day.

"Magnus."

It was Henry, unwontedly somber.

"What's wrong?" _Please let me be leaping to conclusions._

"We need to talk," was the only response. The tone, however, was as stressed as any she had yet heard from the young HAP.

"I'll meet you in my office," she replied immediately, not even waiting for an answer before she headed to the door. One glance at Kate ( _This conversation is merely postponed, young lady._ ) and then she focused on covering the distance to her office in record time.

Henry still managed to beat her there and she entered to find him sitting on the sofa with a pile of papers on his lap and his head in his hands. Sensing her arrival, he looked up to greet her with lines of strain written clearly across his face.

"Henry," concerned, she settled beside him quickly, reaching out to grasp his arm.

"I broke the encryption," he said bleakly, moving after a moment to hold her hand on his arm in place. "Doc," he trailed off, shaking his head and released her hand to pass over the collection on his lap. With a final squeeze, she let him go to take the stack. "I had to read some of them to make sure that I was on the right track," he admitted and she looked back over quickly as he ran a hand down his face, "I sent them to you, but I printed them all out. Just in case. Whoever did this…"

"We'll find them, Henry," she reached back out, smoothing her hand through his short hair. "I promise."

Silently he nodded, capturing her hand to press it slowly in comfort before he stood to leave.

"Get some rest," she ordered softly.

Hesitantly, he nodded once more and she made a mental note to check on him before she retired. Or later in the evening, if this turned into another of the increasingly sleepless nights she had been experiencing. Watching the hunched shoulders of the usually dreadfully cheerful Henry slipping out of her office door, Helen had a feeling that it would be one of those nights. At the least.

Briefly, Helen considered tea. _No,_ she decided, _some things require tea, some must simply be faced head on._ Hoping to catch the highlights, she began to flick through the paper copies, but as words leapt out at her from the pages, her pace slowed. It was almost unbelievable. The sickened feeling washing up from her stomach wished that it was unbelievable – as in, untrue.

Sightlessly, she stared into middle distance, fingers idly tapping against the sheaf of papers on her lap. Now the question remained: What did she want to do?

_You may be able to bury your inmost thoughts. You may be able to appear benevolent. But you don't belong here._

_If you say a word, I will make you hurt those you care about. I know what you know._

_You don't believe me? Remember Sylvia's wedding? You and the chocolate pudding? I know what you know. Follow my instructions and no one else has to pay for your mistake in coming here._

_You bruise so prettily. Maybe I won't use your knowledge of Bertha's new location. Maybe I will. Let's see how well you do tonight. Midnight. You know where._

_Who would you tell? Why should they believe you? Even your own Head of House has had to doubt your word before. Remember the albino Abnormals? Remember all of those injuries you lied about? Who do you think they will believe? You've done my work for me._

Helen's eyes lingered reluctantly on details of forced meetings and increasing levels of violence as the digital voice wrecked a deep-seated and distant vengeance upon Will. If she could discern the disconnect, then surely Will had realized that he was merely a stand-in for some crime, some perpetrator that could not be reached.

_Not that it made much of a difference in the end_ , she thought grimly, resting the sheaf on her lap. Equally disturbing were the references to the Sanctuary scattered throughout. Some of the details, Helen frowned in thought as she flipped back through, could only be known if they had another leak in security. Or – tossing the papers beside her on the sofa, she sank her head into her hands – or if it was someone in the network. Helen didn't know which outcome she feared more.

Shaking her head in an abrupt motion, she took the pile again and moved back to her desk. Enough speculation; it was time to start collating the new data.

* * *

It was long past the time Helen had intended to check in on Henry when the desk phone rang shrilly. Jumping, she picked up the receiver while shaking her head at her own actions. _Honestly, Helen, it's the phone._

"Dr. Magnus."

"Hey, Doc? Got something for you."

"Henry?" she huffed a sigh in frustration. "You should be in bed."

"I know, I know. But I had an idea and it worked. Uh, eventually. See, I took this program I used to streamline…"

As Henry wandered off into tech-babble, Helen shared a fond smile with the empty room before breaking in, "Henry?"

"and… Uh, right. So, long story short, I managed to trace the IP address. Guess where it led?"

Helen didn't have to guess. "The Paraguay Sanctuary."

"The… yeah. How'd you know?" he sounded a bit put out.

"It was a strong theory, Henry, but your proof is actual, solid evidence. Excellent work," she smiled again at the awkwardly cleared throat and mumbled 'thanks' at the other end of the line. "Now go, get some sleep."

"I will. Promise. Want me to send this to you first?"

"Please do. Did you trace the line back to a particular computer, by chance?"

"Yeah, but it might have been sent by someone other than the primary user. Cause you're not gonna like – you already know whose, don't you?"

"Let's say I have a suspicion. Send, then sleep, Henry."

"Yes, Doc," he said mock-obediently and hung up before she could comment on his tone. Such cheek.

A few minutes later a pop-up near the bottom of her screen announced that she had received Henry's email. Clicking over to the correct screen, she opened the message and rolled her eyes at Henry's short message:

_Sent. Reporting to bed. No need to HoverDoc._

Helen blamed Will for that name.

Once, many moons ago, Will had decided to take a more proactive approach to his insomnia, unbeknownst to her at the time. At least until the night she entered the kitchen for a fresh pot of tea only to find him sitting on the floor. To be exact, she found him sitting very straight, gazing absently at nothing, and eating pickles with peanut butter and mustard.

Getting him out of the kitchen and back to bed had taken a bit of effort, more so when he had woken up and refused to go back to sleep. The following day she had – perhaps – been a bit expressive in her concern over his use of hypnotic tapes to 'cure' his insomnia and his subsequent sleepwalking. Not to mention his agitation over both the nightmares and his late night snack run. In retrospect, the term 'HoverDoc' was likely a way to defuse her concern and questions with humor.

It didn't make her blame him for it any less. Particularly as the entirety of her staff had latched onto the name with scarcely concealed glee.

Shaking off the lingering amused exasperation, Helen turned her attention to Henry's trace. Whoever had been behind it was very good. The message had pinged its way all over the world – but Henry was better. Slowly, she traced her finger over the origin IP.

"Gotcha," she murmured.

Still, she sighed, settling back in her chair, it would take more than an IP trace and broadly incriminating emails to prove guilt. It had been much easier in a way to consider suitable action against the Rio Paraguay Haven. Cut off support or demand action against the perpetrator were fairly standard reactions.

_Now, however,_ Helen resisted the urge to rip the papers she held to shreds. It wouldn't change the contents.

_Alright, Helen, stop being emotional. You are the Head of this Network. Fix this._

She drummed her fingers against the crisp white pages for a moment. There were safe guards they could put in place, of course. Plans that had been developed after the 'Emma-situation,' as Declan put it so succinctly. Briskly, she sent a mass email winging its way across oceans and continents. The other Heads would be aware, at least. The Network would be secure. _Right_ , she took a deep breath, _now for the second problem_.

Most of her instincts cried out for direct action. She had a target – one short plane ride to Paraguay and she could begin the delicate removal process with a sharp right hook. It was certainly what she wanted to do. Two considerations held her back.

In the first place, this was a Network matter, not a House one. They did get so grumbly when she acted unilaterally. A larger ground force would ensure safe removal and containment. No matter how less satisfying it would be on a personal level.

Secondly was, of course, Will. She could hardly leave while he was still walled away in his room, slowing driving himself into the ground. A talk with him would have to occur in the near future. Even afterwards, in the best of scenarios, Helen suspected that he would require her proximity for some time – and his needs outweighed revenge.

Before she could give in to her baser instincts, Helen pulled up the teleconferencing program on her monitor and called out to Declan. As it rang, she realized that failing to calculate the time difference first was probably a mistake. After a respectable interval, however, Declan answered, showing no signs of an abrupt awakening. A Head's hours were seldom stable, thankfully.

"Does this have somethin' to do with the rather ominous email I just received?" Declan asked in lieu of 'hello.' Perhaps he had not gotten much sleep, after all.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Helen admitted. "I require some assistance to render the threat neutral. If any of your team are free?"

"For a security breach, they can be," he agreed easily. "Who's the target?"

"Ah," she exhaled slowly. "This needs a bit of explaining."

Carefully, she described Will's actions since his return, preserving what privacy she could, and how they had led to her investigation.

"You hardly need to excuse your actions," Declan broke in at last. "All of us try to protect our staff. When we can," he conceded ruefully.

"Yes," Helen smiled faintly. "Hard job in this line of work, though." Shaking her head, she laid out the evidence as sequentially as possible, charting the escalation from vague warning to threats and manipulation, the textual confessions of violence, and most importantly the knowledge of Sanctuary secrets revealed in the messages.

"Still, with the mental abilities we can assume from the texts," Declan objected, "surely it could all have been picked up from Will's mind."

"Not all," she corrected. "Some of the information is such that only a Head of House would be privy to it, unfortunately."

"Meaning," Declan continued reluctantly.

"That Dr. Benetez is the most likely perpetrator, yes," she finished. "That Henry also tracked the IP back to her computer makes it all the more likely."

"But how did she keep her abilities hidden for such a span of years?" he asked, still dubious.

"According to Will's research, the mental abilities are native defense mechanisms designed to operate at an instinctual, indeed almost subconscious, level. If she adapted to her abilities well enough, she would have had no reason to seek assistance and, given that she clearly mistrusts outsiders, no reason to confide in us thereafter."

"Yet still taking a position with us to protect local interests," Declan nodded as he put the pieces together.

"That's my best guess as well," Helen agreed. "Once she's been secured, we can test for the suspected abilities and see if she'll answer any questions to gain a better understanding. To be honest, I'm not sure that she'll say much. The persona in those communications was quite suspicious."

"First, we've got to capture her, though," Declan said grimly. "I can see why you'd be wanting a larger team."

"Hm, yes, it's her home ground and I'm not certain how large a group it will take to withstand her persuasions," Helen paused for a moment. "I had thought to send Kate and Henry. How many can you shake free at the moment?"

"Luckily, I've a team further north providing a bit of assistance. I'll join them with a few others who just returned from a fairly simple retrieval. Should give us enough," Declan decided.

"Good. Keep me apprised, if you would?" she waited for Declan's nod. "I've seen no evidence that her Second was involved in any way, but we might want to leave a few out-of-House there for a while, just to be certain. I'll leave that to your judgment of events, though," she sighed. "If I could, I would join you."

"Nonsense," he cut in. "Don't trust us to do a simple retrieval? My feelings might be hurt." With a smart grin, he dropped the banter. "I daresay you've got a job and a half of your own waiting there. Tell Will we'll get her for him, no worries."

"I will," she smiled. "Thank you."

With a wave, the screen went black. Helen settled back in her chair, planning. If she couldn't go herself, Declan was an excellent proxy. She and James had made certain of that when they trained him up as the London Second. With a smirk, she remembered dragging a younger Declan through scores of backwoods, admonishing him to think on his feet until he lost his temper and tackled their quarry off the edge of an embankment. Thankfully, it had been a rather shallow embankment. It had marked the beginning of a steadfast, often argumentative friendship that she was glad to have at her back.

Dragging herself from her thoughts, she refocused on the monitor staring blankly at her. Dr. Benetez was taken care of – or would be, shortly. And once she was contained, Helen could find the time to have a few words with her personally. Once Will was on the mend. Will. One problem down, one to go.

She suspected this one would be much harder.

* * *

A short while later, Helen stood outside the closed door of Will's room, balancing a tray on one hand as she fiddled with the master key in the other.

"Everything's in place?" she asked her Old Friend. He merely nodded, reaching out a hand to grip her shoulder tightly.

With a silent nod she turned to the door, sliding the key in as quietly as possible and feeling the lock catch and open under her hand. Leaving it in place, she slipped through the narrow opening.


	7. A Beginning

Helen waited until she heard the soft rasp of the key turning once more in the lock behind her to search for Will in the darkened room. The monitor she checked before leaving her office had shown him perched once more on the window ledge. He was still there, form highlighted by the glow from the streetlights that would still burn for the space of a few hours yet.

"Will," she advertised her presence in case he had somehow missed the sounds of her entrance even as she moved further into the room. Carefully, she made her way towards where she remembered a small, low table waiting and set the tray gently down. Still, Will made no acknowledgement that she had entered.

"Will," she said again, firmer this time, but still quiet. "I can wait as long as you like."

Helen settled on the edge of the bed comfortably. Uncertain of what would await her, she had taken the precaution of changing into exercise clothes. A fact she was grateful for as the silence lengthened.

"Please just go." The sentence almost make her startle, coming out of the shadows after such silence.

"I'm sorry, Will." Helen said evenly. She was sorry. Sorry that she couldn't simply do as he asked, sorry that he wouldn't magically heal so quickly, and most of all sorry that she hadn't been able to protect him from harm in the first place. "I can't do that."

"Fine," he spat, his figure moving from the window into darkness. "Then I will."

"No, Will," Helen told him gently, even as he paced across the room to yank on the door. The locked door, to which her Old Friend now held the key. One way or another, they were going to have this talk.

Helen closed her eyes, taking even breaths, as Will slammed his weight into the door, trying to force it open. She remained still as he stormed about the room, careful to avoid passing close to her corner of the bed, trying the windows that Henry had locked down remotely and the vents too narrow for his shoulders to pass through. She waited for him to realize that this conversation was going to happen.

When he had worn himself out with his futile efforts and slid into a huddle in the corner nearest the wardrobe, Helen knew it was time to begin.

"Will," she said, not moving from the bed, "I know." She waited a beat, but there was no noise from the corner. "I know about Paraguay. I know about Dr. Benetez. I know about the emails and the texts. I know about her abilities." Still no response, "Shall I start at the beginning?"

Part of the problem, Helen knew, was that damnably stubborn pride that made Will refuse to admit weakness. Telling him that she already knew, providing the details that he would balk at speaking aloud, would take at least part of the burden from him. Later on, he could talk through the events himself - if fact, she would insist upon it - but for now, Will needed to know that he would find comfort and understanding without needing to explain first.

Softly, but inexorably, she brought between them all the threats and secrets, all the pain, that he had fallen into unwitting. At the end of the recital, she fell silent, listening to the heavy quiet and hoping for a response.

Aside from loud, stressed breathing from the corner, though, none came.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the glass, Helen slowly rose and began to move towards the corner.

"Stop," brought her to an immediate halt and she dropped to a crouch.

"Will," she almost whispered, glad that she was close enough to see him now, but haunted by the frail body hunched over itself and the fidgeting hands running through his hair and picking at the seams on his clothing.

"Will," his eyes darted over to glance at her, but quickly skidded away. "I know all of this, yes," she continued, "but what I don't know," she tried to speak evenly, but failed as her voice cracked on the last few words, "is why you didn't come to me."

It froze him in place for a moment, before the twitching started anew, more frantic than before. Helen waited it out.

"I couldn't," he finally rewarded her with a mumble. After a beat, he slammed his fists suddenly against the floor, "I couldn't!" Willing her expression to show no alarm and her heart to slow, she stayed quiet as Will stared at his hands, clenching and unclenching them slowly until the veins stood out as knots along the ligaments of his fingers.

"I couldn't," he whispered again, so bewildered that Helen longed to reach out to him, even as she held herself in check. He kept whispering to himself as he lowered his head into his hands and then she crept closer.

When he looked up at her and pressed himself closer to the wall, she stopped again. Settling into an easy crouch, with her hands clasped around her upturned knee, she angled her head down to try and catch his eyes.

"I know," Helen soothed as she sought his gaze. "You don't have to hide anymore. I know."

He raised his head just enough to look up at her uncertainly. She tried a small, quick smile and slowly extended her hand, reminding herself to breathe as she did so. Will's gaze dropped to stare at it for several long moments. A small space of eternity for Helen later, one arm peeled itself away from the tight knot of his body and moved through the small space still separating them.

His touch was tentative as he slid his fingers over hers, barely applying pressure where they wrapped around her palm. Taking her cue from that, she merely crooked her fingers over the back of his hand. Lightly, she brushed her fingertips back and forth over his skin.

Having gained that much, Helen sat quietly, simply stroking his hand on occasion. She watched as the sunlight spread further over the floorboards until Will muttered something into his knees.

"I couldn't hear you," she spoke softly, "What was that?"

His hand squeezed firmly around hers and she tightened her grip in return.

"I don't," he spoke more audibly before stopping, his grip tightening almost desperately.

After a few moments, he tried again. "I don't know," he swallowed loudly, "know what to do." His voice softened to a whisper.

"Alright," she acknowledged. "That's fine." His face turned away from hers. "That's fine, Will," she repeated, firmly. _Now comes the tricky part._ "We can figure that out together." She waited a beat before asking, "Will you let me help you?"

He tugged his hand away from hers and she let it go. Sometimes one concession comes at the cost of another, that much she knew. His retrieved hand smoothed over his hair repeatedly, tugging at the ends.

Although less able in this field than the man she was observing, Helen could trace the track of the argument in his head in the tug and pull of his facial muscles. Will, she knew well enough to read stubborn pride in the corner of his mouth turning down, stress in the flair of his nostrils and the cant of his eyebrows, and uncertainty in the lip catching between his teeth. Then, a small sideways nod.

His hand reached back out for her and she grasped it quickly as his nod grew more certain.

"Good," she affirmed, a bit uncertain where to go next. Helen wondered if Will was in a place yet where he could appreciate the irony of her trying to follow his normal actions on himself. Still, acknowledgement of need, check. She was a little shaky on the next step, but getting them off of the floor would probably not be a bad place to start.

"Come on," she tugged his hand towards herself. "Let's get you sorted, alright?"

Instead of rising, Will simply slid closer, closing the gap between them. Which was likely a positive sign, although not getting them any closer to a vertical position. Never one to let go of an advantage, however, she carefully slid first her hand to his shoulder and then her arm around his back.

The tension along his spine was unbelievable, but when she settled he gingerly turned his head into her shoulder and leaned in, resting his forehead against her neck.

After over two weeks of hiding from her, it was unexpectedly comforting to have him close. Letting her eyes fall shut, Helen gently freed her other hand to wrap around his waist and tilted her own head to rest her cheek on his wild curls. That seemed to be all the invitation Will needed and his restless hands wrapped around her waist, tightening frantically, as though he expected her to escape. Or at least to try.

"I'm here, Will," she soothed. "I'm not going anywhere." _Unless I pass out from lack of air_ , she considered, shifting slightly in his grasp.

"You shouldn't," came a muffled reply from her shoulder.

"What?"

"Be here. Stay here," he muttered disjointedly. "You don't know," he trailed off shifting uneasily further into her neck. "She's, she'll hurt everything."

"She's not going to hurt anything," Helen corrected firmly, hoping to settle that idea in his head at least, "or anyone ever again. Understand? We'll take care of her."

"Where is she?" Will demanded immediately, his hands fisting in her shirt.

"Declan has her." _Hopefully._ "She's not going to hurt you anymore, Will. I promise."

"Where's she going?" he asked uncertainly, not relaxing.

"Not here," she cut to what was undoubtedly his biggest concern. "For now she'll remain in Paraguay."

"Not safe," Will shook his head into her shoulder.

"Yes, you are. You're safe now, Will," Helen sensed that she would be saying that a lot in the near future. "She will be contained and she won't hurt you or anyone else again."

"No, she had people. There," she frowned as she translated the muffled noises.

"She won't be getting to them. We know all about her, Will," she reiterated. "Henry's been digging."

A muted almost-huff of a laugh that burst forth like a choked sob followed her words.

"Yes, leave it to Henry," she smiled into his hair. "She's taken care of, m'lad," Helen straightened again without letting go of him. "Why don't we focus on you?"

Receiving no response, she blithely began laying out plans. To protest, he would have to acknowledge her words, at least.

"I'd say a shower is certainly in order," she decided, finger-combing through his matted locks. "Something to eat and then sleep. Quite a bit of that." The image of his staring out of the window night after night burned through her memory and she felt her lips curl downward in a frown.

"Not tired," a determined voice contributed.

She awarded him with a skeptical look that he didn't glance up to intercept.

"Really?" she questioned. "Is that due to all of the rest you've gotten lately? Or the drugs?"

The body in her arms froze. _Busted. Did you really think that I would let you get away with that?_ The time wasn't right, but they were going to have a long conversation about prescription drugs soon.

"I needed them," and now he was squirming to break out of her hold. She let him go and followed him up as he rose. Or maybe they were going to do this now.

"If you really believe that," Helen said soberly, "then this talk is about to get much longer."

"I needed to figure out what to do," he defended, pacing the length between the foot of the bed and the wardrobe.

"And you thought speed would help the decision making process?" Even attempting to hide the scorn in that sentence would probably have failed. Helen didn't try.

"I just needed to stay awake long enough to figure it out!" he shouted, before turning for another lap. "It was fine, I was careful."

"Careful and amphetamines don't work well in the same sentence, Will," she laid out, "but it doesn't matter right now," she forestalled his next argument. "You don't _need_ them anymore, correct? Benetez is taken care of and you can go off of them now, right?" It wasn't really a question.

"Yeah," Will answered anyway. Definitely not quite up to speed. So to speak.

"Good," she paused briefly to let it sink it, then demanded. "I want all of it now, then."

"What?" he stopped mid-pace.

"All of it," she repeated, before clarifying, "Drugs, needles, swabs. Even the bloody cotton balls. Now," she motioned as he stared at her, unmoving. _Come now, Will. Don't make this harder._ Pairing it with her best Don't-Make-Me-Repeat-Myself look got her some motion, as Will drifted towards the chest of drawers.

"Should I find anything when I go over your room," Helen aimed for a light tone as she again took a seat on the bed, "and I _will_ be going over your room, I will not be happy."

His only response was the vicious slam of a drawer being opened violently, followed by a series of petulant bangings as he deposited items on the top of the bureau. A final crash of the drawer and Will stalking over to stare out the window told her that he was finished.

"Good," she didn't move. Time enough for securing the drugs later. "Now I believe a shower was next on the list."

He shrugged.

"Will," she began.

"What does it matter?" he cut in, a harsh whisper aching to become a yell. "It doesn't, it," he stopped, shifting his weight from side to side for a moment as though longing to bolt.

"It matters," Helen said, standing to move beside him. She glanced out of the window herself for a moment before turning to face him. "I know you're hurting right now, Will. And likely on edge, vaguely nauseous, and emotional." The last prompted him to turn towards her with a startled look. "Withdrawals, Will," she explained, holding out her hand again. He took it, looking somewhat bewildered with his eyebrows drawing downwards. "Come now," she tugged gently, "a shower will do you a world of good. I'll be right here when you're done."

Miraculously, Will let her lead him to the bathroom and nudge him inside. Glancing at the interior, Helen silently retrieved a towel from the tray and pushed it into his hands. "Clean behind your ears," she teased, which secured her a half-hearted smile, at least. _I almost hate to spoil that, but needs must._ "Don't lock the door." As predicted, the smile vanished, but Will only nodded as he softly shut the door behind himself.

Keeping one ear on the sound of the shower, Helen busied herself making the room habitable again. The drugs safely packed away in a soft-sided locking valise, fresh sheets tucked firmly on the bed, side table cleared of crumpled research and the odd cup of _horrors!_ coffee, and it almost approached its normal state.

When the water cut off, she surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction, settling on the edge of the bed once more. She still needed to get some food into him, somehow, and then the even harder task of persuading him to sleep. If she could only get him to agree to trying, the withdrawal symptoms should help her out at this point. _But when does he make things easy._

_Speaking of which,_ Helen frowned as the interval of silence from the bathroom lengthened. Inwardly compromising, she gave him a few more minutes before crossing over to knock on the door.

"Will?" When no answer came, she knocked again with her hand on the knob. "Will, I'm coming in."

Gingerly, she cracked the door open far enough to see Will sitting on the floor by the tub, wearing a robe. Pushing the door open fully, she took a seat on top of the toilet lid and rested a hand on his arm, taking heart when it wasn't shrugged off.

"Will? What's wrong?" Leaning forward, Helen tried to catch his eyes, fixed firmly on his hands running over the towel clenched in his fists. Sliding her arm around his shoulder, she placed her other hand over his, "Will?"

"She," Will said unevenly. "There was water. Once. I," he took a deep breath. "Magnus?"

"I'm here," she managed over the tightness in her chest. "You're safe, Will. I'm right here."

"I can't do this," he muttered to his hands. "I can't."

"Yes, you can." _Quite enough of that._ "Come on, off the floor." Standing, she half-lifted Will with her until he realized - as Henry would have phrased it - that resistance was futile and staggered to his feet as well. "A change of clothes and some dinner," she said, steering him out to the bedroom. "Just one thing at a time, Will," she advised quietly as she patted his arm, leaving him in front of the bureau.

Once she heard the sound of a drawer sliding out, Helen silently let out an uneven breath and began lifting dishes from the tray. By the time Will ghosted up to her side, utensils were laid and juice poured.

"I hate oatmeal," he stated flatly, wrinkling his nose at the table.

"It's mild enough to not upset your stomach after deprivation and nutrient-rich," was her only response, nudging him towards a chair. "If you'll eat it without complaint, I'll even add sweetener," she bribed remorselessly.

"Oh well, sweet sludge is so much better," he griped, flopping into the seat.

Preserving a dignified silence, she drizzled maple syrup and a small amount of brown sugar over the bowl before sliding it over. Picking up the spoon she held out the handle to Will. When he looked at her, but made no move to take it, she felt her eyebrow inching upwards. _Being stubborn are we? Well, w_ _e'll see about that._ Along with the eyebrow, she added the best I-Mean-It look that she possessed.

He scowled. A beat later, he took the spoon and shoved it into the bowl.

Some advantages did come with age and experience.

Helen settled back with her cup of warmed tea. A few sips in, she noted that Will's efforts involved more relocation of oatmeal than actual consumption. _I've survived two picky eaters,_ her inner voice sounded equally exasperated and amused. _Do you really thin_ _k it's going to work?_

"Something the matter?" she asked simply

"No," short statement, no eye contact, and a frown beginning to force the corners of his mouth downwards. _Oh dear._

"Then why don't you stop rearranging your food and start eating it," she suggested. "Unless you require some assistance," spoken over his opening mouth, "I had better start seeing less oatmeal in that bowl."

"I'm not hungry," he dismissed, pushing the bowl away.

"Not the issue," Helen pushed it back and tilted the spoon towards him.

"I'll eat when I'm hungry, Magnus," he shouted, pushing the bowl away again. He then began a rant about heaven-knew-what, but she tuned it out. Retrieving the spoon, she scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal, waited until he was mid-shout, and stuffed it into his mouth.

While he spluttered, she recovered the spoon, took another spoonful, waited for his coughs to die down, and repeated the maneuver.

"Stop!" he demanded, hiding his mouth behind a serviette. "I don't," swiftly tugging the cloth down, she fed him a third spoonful before resting the spoon back on the side of the bowl.

"I know you may not feel hungry," she spoke seriously over his remaining coughs, "but your body needs sustenance. I will not let you neglect your health, Will, if I have to spoonfeed you every meal. Would you prefer to get to the point where I'm putting a tube down your throat or an IV in your arm?" she demanded as his frown deepened. "I won't lose you to carelessness. Mine or yours."

Rubbing his watering eyes, Will nodded, reaching out for the spoon with a last cough.

With an approving nod, she returned to her own cup of tea and forced herself to eat a croissant as well, in the light of a good example, while Will slowly plowed through half of his bowl. At that point, he settled the spoon in the bowl - gently, she was amused to note - and turned his best set of pleading eyes on her.

"Really, Magnus, I can't eat anymore."

"Alright," she agreed. _He does look a bit green around the edges._ "You can try a bit more in a few hours. For now," she spoke over the protest already forming around behind his lips, "just get this down." The thermos towards the edge of the table was still cold, Helen noticed in relief as she poured the thick liquid supplement into a clean juice glass.

"Milk?" Will queried dubiously, one eyebrow slanting upwards.

"Vanilla nutritional supplement," she corrected. "Not negotiable," she added hurriedly as storm clouds gathered over his head yet again. _What is that saying about heading things off at the pass?_

With an aggrieved sigh, he grabbed the glass and obnoxiously slurped it down as she sat on her better instincts to chide him about slowing down. The ordeal ended with the slam of the empty glass onto the table.

"What now?" he inquired snidely. "Any more fascinating activities?"

She felt her mouth thinning on its own and let it, raising her brows and jutting out her chin to give him what she privately termed her Dealing-With-A-Petulant-Child Look. It had seen much service over the years. As a result, it worked the customary magic on Will, who dropped his gaze to the table and began tracing the whorls of the wood with one finger.

"I do, in fact," when she felt that he had been sufficiently quelled for the moment. "Bed."

"What?" That got his attention away from the woodwork. "I'm not tired."

Helen tried to restrain a skeptical eyebrow. She met with moderate success.

"Then you can simply lay there and rest," she sidestepped the ensuing argument. "Come now." Rising, she busied herself at the bedside, turning down the blankets and fluffing pillows. It was disappointing, if not particularly surprising, to turn and see that he hadn't budged an inch.

"I don't need to rest." She could tell that he had been trying to say so firmly, but the result was more plaintive than he probably wished.

"You can't function without rest," she gently reminded him. _Bit ironic for me to be delivering this lecture,_ she admitted ruefully, pushing the scant few hours of sleep she'd gotten since Will's return to the back of her mind.

"You never sleep." Yes, that was definitely a pout. Once more, she wondered where the line between perception and telepathy lay.

"Even with my unique physiology, I still require sleep, Will." _Which you know._ "Just less of it."

"I," his next argument stopped abruptly and Helen watched in concern as his focus returned to his fingertips and he seemed to shrink as he drew into himself. She moved from the bedside at last to lean down and take his hands in her own.

"I'll be right here, Will," she tried to smile reassuringly. "You'll be quite safe, I assure you."

He looked up then and she tried not to let her smile slip - or melt into a worried frown. His eyes looked so very bleak.

"Trust me," she murmured instead, tightening her grip on the hands between her own.

Will didn't look convinced, but he did rise and follow her when she tugged him towards the bed, so Helen decided to take what she could get at the moment. A cooperative Will was nothing to sneeze at - and an uncooperative Will made running the entire Sanctuary network seem like a pleasure cruise.

Once she'd seen him successfully tucked under the covers, she puttered around the room, hiding indecision for a few moments. The tray straightened, the bathroom set to rights, and the lights turned off, she was still undecided. Moving to the window and idly watching the sun approach the zenith of midday, she tried to put her thoughts in order.

Prior to this point, she'd never simply gotten into bed with Will uninvited. Granted, the 'invitation' was usually illness or a nightmare, but the distinction remained. He would uncomfortable with the implied need for her presence. He would also be soothed by it. Which really answered the question in itself.

Decided, she acted with deliberate nonchalance, gathering her ever-present tablet and a friendly novel from the tray before making her way to the opposite side of the bed. Despite the eyes that she knew had been following her motions throughout the room, Will visibly startled when she set her items on the nightstand and settled herself next to him on the bed. Ignoring the movement, she cradled the tablet on her lap and forced herself to begin reviewing the latest set of inventory reports that still needed signing off.

Most of her mind, aside from the corner forced to flicker over the lines of data, noted as the unnatural stillness of her bed partner segued into awkward, slight shifting before finally relaxing into the blankets once more. When the light breathing next to her evened out and a hand emerged from his tight cocoon to rest against her leg, she lowered the tablet to her knees.

Scrubbing her face with her hands, Helen took what seemed like her first deep breath since entering the room and let it out slowly. Gently, she reached over and smoothed Will's damp, wild hair off of his forehead, almost smiling as the gesture merely encouraged him to shuffle closer in her direction.

She knew that this moment wouldn't last. His nightmares would hardly have been averted by the little progress made that night. When he did awake - this day and, Helen suspected, for many to come - she would have to renew once again a steady force to prompt him from retreating. To counteract his desire to give in to the impulse to hide from her, from the others, from all the aspects of life that would seem insurmountable to him for some time.

But not forever. She would make certain of that.


	8. A Beginning II

The soft click of the door catching as it closed roused Helen in the early evening. The arm under Will tensed in preparation to face the intruder if need be, but the gentle huff of breath she tracked a moment later caused her to relax back into the mattress as the room blinked into focus.

Blearily, she watched the figure of her Old Friend softly clinking items on trays for a few moments before she quietly cleared her throat. The low sound brought a cessation of movement until he turned to peer at the bed.

"Good afternoon," she whispered before frowning and squinting over at the window. "Or should that be good evening?"

"Should rest more," he demanded in lieu of a greeting.

"I didn't mean to rest at all," she answered, slowly moving to sit up and ease her arm out from under Will.

"Haven't been sleeping," he growled disapprovingly. "Won't do any good that way."

"I haven't had time," she admitted ruefully. "Every moment," Helen trailed off, glancing down at the wan face that twisted softly in disapproval at her movements. "I didn't dare," she said almost to herself.

Her Old Friend huffed and left his work at the table. Settling gingerly on the other side of Will, his presence caused her to look up, mildly startled.

"He is here now," his tone dropped to the soft note of comfort that so belied his outward appearance. "He is safe. Rest, to be strong for him."

"What if," she couldn't bring herself to utter an what-ifs. She couldn't afford the thought of losing him.

"He survived," her Old Friend's voice thankfully broke the cycle of thoughts she was desperately trying to stem. "He has us." His voice changed then, to something almost demanding, "He needs you. Rested. Or you'll be no good to him," he ended with an ominous rumble.

"I can take care of myself, thank you," she raised an eyebrow at him, but couldn't suppress a small smile, "but I consider myself duly chastised." Helen wasn't - quite - stubborn enough to disregard good advice simply because it ran counter to her own wishes.

All the same, when her Old Friend cleared the room with a subdued clank from the old tray, a pointed look, and the dull click of the door locking, she reached for her tablet, not a pillow. If nothing else, a check on Declan's position couldn't wait. He must be near to, or perhaps already done with, making a move on Benetez' location.

Indeed, she noted with satisfaction the mail resting in her inbox from Declan, marked with an urgent exclamation point and a subject line reading 'Mission: Head Hunt - Success.' She skimmed the report and performed a quick scan for any outstanding emergencies, before virtuously setting the tablet aside. Flicking off the bedside lamp, Helen slid further under the covers that she couldn't remember getting beneath earlier in the day and tried to relax into the mattress.

It became easier when she was distracted, all of thirty seconds later, by Will pressing close to her side. At least that explained how she wound up with him asleep on her shoulder before. Although he hadn't woken, she realized, which thought immediately led to her opening her arms so that he could settle close. He had been restless while she worked that morning, she could recall that, but then hours had passed with nothing that had woken her out of her own sleep. Helen had trained herself to sleep lightly, certainly one of Will's nightmares would have brought her around in a flash. This would bear further consideration.

Turning her head so that it rested against the top of Will's, she settled in for a few more hours of rest. Loathe though she was to admit it, if her nap through the afternoon had left her still tired, then her Old Friend was right and she had been stinting herself on sleep over the past few weeks beyond even her unique physiology's ability to bear. She hoped he wouldn't be terribly smug about it. Little was more grating than a smug Sasquatch.

As she slid off to sleep, Helen's last thought was that she ought to share Declan's mission title with Will. Head Hunt. He would get a good laugh out of that before declaring his hatred of puns yet again.

* * *

When she woke again it was late evening and the sky was empurpled with the last remnants of dusk. Helen tensed for a moment, unsure what had awakened her, until she realized that Will was shifting under her arm. His movements much have nudged her into consciousness. Remaining still, she waited to see if he was only restless or finally rousing.

After a few moments, he abruptly stilled, before pulling slightly away and up.

"Magnus?" she heard him mutter, mostly to himself it sounded. "What. It's night." Slipping out of her hold, he sat up fully and, she could see through slitted eyes, bent over his knees, holding his head in one hand while the other ran the blanket between his fingertips. "Real or her?" he whispered to himself again.

Helen decided that it was time that she joined the land of the waking officially.

Sitting up decisively, she said a quiet, "Good evening," to the side of Will's head before running a hand over his hunched back. "How are you feeling?"

Her only answer was a shrug. She debated momentarily about accepting it, but decided that it would most likely only set a bad precedent.

"That's not an answer," she pointed out calmly, moving her hand up to brush through his hair a few times before returning to his back. "Are you still tired? Hungry?"

There was silence for a few moments, broken only by the soft sounds of her hand brushing over the cloth of his pajamas.

"Magnus?" he finally asked hoarsely, waiting for her sound of assent before he continued, "What if," he paused and swallowed, uncertainly, before barreling on at reckless pace, "what if you're not really you?"

Helen blinked, caught off guard for moment. He must, of course, be referring to Benetez, but she wasn't certain exactly how to respond. "What do you mean?" Start with the simplest solution first.

"I," Will stopped again, hugging his knees tighter to his chest. Taking the odds, Helen moved closer to him, tugging him into her side. He seemed to relax minutely, and she repressed a sigh of relief. "I," he started again determinedly, "well. She, she made me see things that weren't, they weren't true. But not see. Not see, exactly, I guess, but in, in my head. And things that were, too, but not then, but in the past. I." Frustration, she guessed, had stopped him this time.

"What things, Will?" she prompted gently.

He didn't answer for long moments, before letting go of his knees to turn into her slightly. She responded to the subtle plea, slipping her other arm around him to gather him close to her. He tucked his nose into the crook of her neck and breathed in silence for so long that she half-believed he had fallen back to sleep, until she heard the harsh whisper, "Terrible things."

Helen hummed an assent, fiercely not letting it catch on the frog that welled in her throat every time she let herself consider even briefly what That Woman might have done to Will over the course of those long two months, then let him hug her in peace for a while before she pressed again, "Can you tell me?"

As she'd almost predicted, he pulled out of her hold immediately and squirmed off of the bed. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes," she stated calmly, but definitely, "it does." Purposely, she remained in the bed, letting Will pace by himself across the room.

"It's over," he murmured, before repeating himself louder. "It's over. I'm back here. It's done. Why can't you just let it be?" Will turned towards her again to give his plea directly at her. The ache in her chest intensified.

"It is over," she agreed, noting that he seemed relieved at the concession. "But you know that you can't just sweep this under the rug, Will," she appealed to the doctor she knew to still be within him, "Would you let a patient get away with any such thing?"

He frowned at the question, truth warring with stubbornness. "I've dealt with it," he muttered at last.

"Which doesn't explain that drugs," Helen continued ruthlessly, when it appeared that he would say no more on the subject. "Not to mention your behavior since your return."

"Would you quit harping about the damn drugs," he snapped, scowl ruining his features. "I told you, I had to try and stop her. I needed to stop her first. That was the reason for everything. I thought you'd understand that," he finished petulantly, crossing his arms and frowning at the floor.

"Then you should have come to me," she said it quietly in the hopes that volume would disguise the pain she still felt that he hadn't trusted her with this of all things.

Helen watched as the anger drained out of him, leaving behind an expression that was so terribly lost. So, volume hadn't helped then, apparently.

"I couldn't," he whispered, uncomfortably echoing his chant from the night before. If she'd driven him back a step, she would curse herself a blue streak that would have done Nigel proud. "I, I wanted to," he stuttered, moving to the foot of the bed and gripping one of the bed posts as though it alone could keep him anchored to the ground, "but she. I."

Once more, she found herself stuck at the crossroads between 'wait it out' and 'prompt' until she could bear it no longer, "She what?"

"She," he echoed frowning. "You wouldn't have believed me," he stated emphatically.

Leaving aside the fact that of course she would have, for the moment, Helen pursued the more important thought, "Why not?"

"Because," he looked stuck for a moment, before he began what she could only call a recitation. As though the litany had been burned into his mind. "Because she's a Head of House and respected, because I have no proof and others will back her up, because I've lied to you before and you have no reason to trust me, because who would believe such a story." He stopped for a breath, "Besides, I was taking care of it."

"Did she tell you all of those reasons?" she refused to be distracted from the main goal. The other issues inherent in his statement could bide a while, no matter how they chafed.

"Well," Will blinked at her for a moment, "I don't. I guess. But they're pretty obvious." His tone held a note of uncertainty, however.

"Really?" Helen made sure that her skepticism was clear before holding out a hand. Now was the time to contradict some of those assertions and to solidify his doubt. "Come here."

Will eyed her dubiously, but let go of the bed post and rounded the bed. After a questioning look that she answered with a twitch of her fingertips, he took her hand. She pulled until he gave in and sat on the bed beside her.

"She was a Head," she stressed the 'was,' "but they, we, are not perfect, Will. Wexford springs alarmingly to mind," she quipped and breathed at the ghost of a smile that slid over his features. "She wanted you to fear her authority so that she could get away with her actions."

He bit his lip and she paused to give him time to consider the thought.

"She lied to you, Will." Helen kept her voice gentle, but tightened her grip on his hand. "All accusations are always investigated in full. She knew that. Just as she knew that, whatever difficulties we may have, I will always believe you. Even if she'd managed somehow to bury all of the evidence, which would have been nearly impossible given your condition, I would have never allowed her to remain. She knew that she would be," she hesitated over the wording, finally settling on a bland, "neutralized."

"But why?" he looked so bewildered that she had a hard time restraining herself from reaching for him. Her reading had made it pretty clear that it was better to wait for his overtures, for the most part. She intended to take a broad view of that 'most part,' though. "I've kept things from you. Lied."

"The only person you're ever tried to hurt is yourself, Will," she explained patiently. "Even then, it was more through omission than anything else. You would never make false accusations or try to ruin someone. I know that. I know you."

Helen ran her thumb over Will's knuckles as he digested that statement.

"She said she'd hurt people," he blurted as though the sentences could no longer be contained, shivering and wrapping his other arm around himself. "She knew things. From my head. She said she'd use them. And," his voice stopped.

Not loosening her hold of his hand, Helen stretched down for the throw at the foot of the bed. When she had it in her lap, she did let go, only to wrap the throw around him and, not incidentally, pull him to her side once more. 'Most part' wasn't 'always.' "And?" she repeated when he was securely ensconced.

"And," he said, relaxing minutely into her shoulder, "she'd hurt people and say it was my fault. It would be my fault."

"Your fault that she decided to misuse her abilities?" she posed. "Did you tell her to invade your thoughts?"

"No," he admitted quietly, "but I should have. I shouldn't have. Well."

"Have what?"

"I don't know!" he burst, pulling away and waving his hands. "Stopped her. Something."

"How?" Slowly, she herded him in the right direction.

"How?" he echoed, his voice growing quieter as he thought aloud. "By. I could have. Should have been stronger."

"You're not a telepath, Will," she pointed out gently. "Humans have no native defenses against mental abilities."

"They were my thoughts, Magnus," he said gravely. "I have a responsibility."

Helen considered that statement. He had a point, although not as strenuous as the one he was attempting to make.

"Yes, your thoughts were compromised," she decided on at last, "and I can understand the need to make amends for the occurrence. But you were attacked, Will. What would you normally counsel a victim? One who was attacked and then forcibly held for a period of several weeks?"

"I wasn't," he protested. "It's not like she locked me in a dungeon or something?"

"Were you able to leave?" she quickly posed.

"Not exactly," he admitted slowly. "We travelled between the Haven and her Sanctuary. Mostly together. She, she told me not to run," the last statement was scarcely audible.

"Mental and emotional constraints are just as real as physical ones," Helen reminded him of the fact of which she knew he was aware. "Often worse in their very absence of physicality."

"When you're the only thing keeping you there," he whispered, curling back into her side.

"She attacked your mind and then threatened you into staying," she reiterated. "It wasn't your fault. And, whatever she might have done, she didn't do it. No one else has been harmed and now she won't hurt anyone again. You have nothing to blame yourself for," she stressed. "You were very brave. It's over now."

"Is it?" he asked bleakly.

"Yes," she tightened her grip. "Declan has Benetez in custody. We're looking at permanent housing in Sydney as we already have a proper facility for her there. As of now, there's a Triad permanently assigned to her for monitoring purposes," Helen decided not to mention that this wouldn't be necessary until she actually woke up. Apparently Declan had exorcised a bit of his desire for vengeance in that regard. She couldn't quite find it in her to chastise him. Not when her mind kept turning over plans to arrange a 'chat' with the woman herself. "You're safe now."

"How do you know? All that. That Declan has her."

"He's been sending me updates," Helen paused for a moment in thought. _Who knew, it might help_. "Would you like to see them?"

For a long moment there was no response. Then she felt his head tip fractionally against her neck in a nod.

Half of her wanted to say _good enough_ , but… _verbal, Helen_. _He needs to learn to speak more about what he does and does not want. Too bad it's going to be like pulling teeth._

"Was that a yes?" she asked gently. "Or a no?"

After a moment of silence – she could almost hear Will weighing how he wanted to see the emails against having to ask for them – he whispered, "Yes. Please."

"Okay. Hand me that tablet, then," she motioned towards the nightstand, letting go of Will so that he could stretch to reach it. She wondered whether relief or concern was the more appropriate reaction when he tucked himself back into her side after handing the tablet over.

Pushing the thought away for later, she brought up the correct message and tilted the screen towards Will. Who reached out as though to take it, but instead only wrapped his hand around the corner, watching his thumb trace the black plastic frame.

When his gaze didn't waver, Helen dared to gently prompt, "Did you want to read it?" and got a shrug in return, followed by a beat of silence and a very soft 'I don't know.'

"Okay." She had no idea what to do with that. "Would you like me to read it to you?" she tried desperately.

The quiet 'yes' had her stifling a sigh of relief. Covering for it, she tilted the screen until the email showed clearly and read Declan's brief tale of capture and containment aloud.

There was a long moment of silence when she finished, before Will asked uncertainly, "Declan was there too?"

"Yes."

"So, he's sure they have her?" he still wasn't looking at her, as though the brush of his thumb over the rounded corner was the most interesting feature of the room.

"Yes, she's definitely contained," she assured him.

He nodded, but his thumb stopped moving and he seemed to tense in place.

"Will?"

"Could you," he whispered, before clearing his throat and shifting slightly, "maybe. Maybe read it again?"

"Of course," she closed her eyes to gather herself for a moment and rested her forehead against the side of his head before repeating, "Of course. Come here," clearing her throat, she tugged him back until they were resting against the headboard. Pausing to pull the blankets back around them both, she took the tablet back up and read Declan's message again. This time, she stopped between sentences to explain which teams had met Declan in Paraguay and how the mission plan had been designed. If details would make Will feel that Benetez was truly taken care of, then Helen would give him as many details as she could muster.

When she finally reached the end of her second recitation, she let the silence stretch as she drew comforting circles against Will's side.

"We should eat something," she finally said. "Before our friend comes back and discovers us with a full tray still."

Will nodded, but only sighed and made no effort to move. After a beat, he shifted and his head tilted back against her shoulder. When she looked down, he was staring at her with a furrow between his brows.

"Why are you here?" he asked bluntly.

"Trying to get rid of me?" she deflected almost before thinking about the sentence.

"I'm serious, Magnus," he frowned, struggling out of her embrace so that he could turn and stare back at her. "Why are you still here? Why all of," he motioned haphazardly around the room, "all of this?"

"Would you be here if it was me?" she asked, a bit confusedly, but the point came across. She hoped.

"Of course," his voice rose, "but that's different."

"How?" Helen found herself honestly wondering. She knew they should have been talking more than they had after the events of last autumn. Neither of them was terribly good at discussing emotions, though. Actions instead of words, which worked until they started using other actions to cover up words that they didn't want to address.

"What about the Sanctuary?" he demanded. "You're kinda indispensible. Aren't they wondering where you are?"

"I'm not as necessary as all that," she paused, hoping that he wouldn't remember to bring up that statement the next time he wanted her to take a break, "if anything vital needs my attention, I can be found. Besides, haven't you heard Henry's spiel about the miracles of modern technology?" she flipped a hand towards the tablet, discarded on the bed beside her, "I've been keeping an eye on things."

"You're going to be drowning in paperwork," he muttered.

"Well, I know who to commandeer for my filing," she was pleased when that actually garnered a mock-glare and almost a twitch of a smile.

"It's just," he stopped moving for the first time since he'd sat up and began picking at a seam on the comforter. "I'm keeping you from important things. You don't have to stay here. It's not like, you know. I'll be fine."

And that was really the crux of the matter. Helen refrained from closing her eyes, but did rub a hand across her forehead. Her tried and true method of ignoring emotional problems until they went away was truly letting her down about now. "I am dealing with something important right now, Will," she said as gently as possible. The real problem had never changed, no matter how hard she pretended to herself that it had. Except now, the consequences went far past a broken ankle and a viral infection. Perhaps she needed some outside counsel for this - or more importantly, perhaps she should find it for Will. "Someone important," she emphasized.

He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with this turn to the conversation.

Undecided about whether to press the point, she let the silence stretch and then nudged his knee with her own. "Come on, I think we can call this meal dinner. I don't believe that oatmeal even made an appearance," she bribed, sliding out from under the covers.

"I am hungry," he admitted, sounding bemused.

"The withdrawals," she thought that was probably the source of his confusion, "you'll be quite hungry for awhile. Which is just as well," she pointed out bluntly, "considering the weight you've lost." This time she was simply going to have to be forthright about his recovery, not just try to subtly remind him when to eat and sneak extra calories into him when she found the opportunity.

Will blinked at her in surprise for a moment before looking down at himself uncertainly. "I look the same?" he half-asked, half-said.

It was her turn to blink in surprise. "You look gaunt, Will," she reached out to run her fingers down the hollow of his cheek. "You were underweight when I checked you over a few weeks ago and it looks as though it's only gotten worse."

"I wasn't really hungry," he shuffled his way off of the bed, "but I'm sure I ate enough."

"Amphetamines suppress appetite," she informed him, wrapping an arm around his waist to lead them to the table, "and you have a tendency to forget about meals anyway."

"You really have no room to talk," he said, letting her escort him to a chair, "Dr. 'I'm fine, I had breakfast yesterday'."

Her grin was probably wholly disproportionate to the joke, but it was such a relief to see his innate cheekiness slipping out again that Helen simply let herself beam. Then surprised them both by leaning over his chair to kiss his temple.

"Cheeky," it came out more as an endearment that a chastisement as she took her own seat, "Careful or I'll put you on an oatmeal-only diet."

"I thought you wanted me not to avoid meals?" The little grin on his face was far more satisfying than any meal her Old Friend could have dreamed up.


End file.
